The Professor's Daughter: Order of the Phoenix
by K-yers
Summary: After the disasterious confrontation at the Triwizard Tournament, Calla Snape is trying her hardest to make it through her fourth year at Hogwarts. But with enemies around every corner, it's getting harder and harder to know who to trust.
1. 1: Grimmauld Place

**A/N: Hello world and welcome to the fourth installment of "The Professor's Daughter". This story will follow Calla Snape through her adventures during her fourth year at Hogwarts and the aftermath of what happened after the Triwizard Tournament...**

**If you haven't read the first three stories, I highly suggest that you do because if you don't you'll be confused. They will all be on my profile so go read them before this one.**

**I think I've held y'all up for long enough by talking. So go grab a snack and please enjoy "The Professor's Daughter: Order of the Phoenix".**

* * *

At first this place wasn't so bad.

Number twelve, Grimmauld Place was where I spent the summer between my third and fourth years at Hogwarts. Once I arrived home in Spinner's End, my dad, Severus Snape, informed me that I had to leave quickly and I had to hurry to get packed. Then we ended up here.

When we arrived at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, I quickly found out that we were not alone. Remus Lupin answered the door and several others escorted the two of us into the living room to be introduced.

There was a young woman there called Tonks. I was delighted to discover that not only was she an extremely young Auror, she was also a Metamorphmagus. For my entertainment she started changing her nose into different shapes. Then there was Kingsley Shacklebolt; a tall, black wizard with a gold hoop through one ear. Several other wizards met me and regarded Dad with caution, but none stuck out more than the one who had waited in the doorway before making his presence known.

Sirius Black looked so much better than the last time I had seen him. His dark hair was cleaner and neater, and he had gotten plumper from eating proper meals. His face was a mask of indifference while Dad was watching, but once Dad left the room to speak with a few other people, Sirius scooped me up in a tight hug.

Later that night, after dinner, several wizards decided to leave. That was when Dad told me that he needed to go.

"I want you to stay here; this is the safest place for you right now. And Tonks will be here for you for a while, and then others will come." Dad paused. "Are you sure you'd like to stay here? I won't force you if you don't want to: and you might change your mind later."

I insisted that I stayed. Dad nodded and turned to Sirius, who had been eavesdropping from the door. "I swear to you, Black, if one hair on her head is harmed I will flay that arrogant grin off your face."

Sirius narrowed his eyes at Dad. "Don't worry there, Snape. No harm will come to your girl." And then he left.

I found out three days later who Dad wanted me to avoid in this house. The Weasley family marched in with Hermione Granger beside them. The second I heard his voice carry up the stairs, I hid in my bedroom with my owl, Rowling, and tried to force the oncoming tears to stay where they were.

George Weasley was here for the summer. After what happened between us last year at Hogwarts, I knew he wouldn't be particularly thrilled to see me. I broke his heart; while breaking my own at the same time.

Ginny and Hermione burst into the room with their luggage and once their eyes found me they froze. All of sudden, their luggage was thrown to the floor and I was being hugged by my two best friends.

"How long have you been here?" Ginny asked after she released me.

"Just a few days," I answered. I felt like I knew where this conversation was going to head. And sure enough—

"Wait till George finds out you're here!" Ginny exclaimed. Hermione glanced sharply at her.

"Honestly, Ginny; I don't think Calla wants George to know that she's here yet!"

They promised not to tell until there would be no escape from confrontation. But that plan went down the drain when we heard footsteps thunder up the stairs. Ron crashed through the door with Fred right behind him. There was a slight moment of awkward hesitation before Ron walked forward and hugged me quickly. Fred just stood in the doorway, staring at me.

"Hi," I offered first. Fred tightened his jaw and looked me up and down with narrowed amber eyes. Then he turned on his heel and left the room. I deflated.

"Don't worry, Calla." Ron tried his best at being encouraging. "He needs his space, that's why he sent Fred up instead. With this small a house, you'll have to have a confrontation sooner or later."

Strangely, that didn't make me feel any better.

The next Weasley I saw was Mrs. Weasley. When I refused to go downstairs, she brought up some food that she had made. Ginny and Hermione brought up their own food and ate with me. At some point during dinner, Tonks visited with her own plate of food. She wanted to know what all the awkwardness was about. So I left it to Hermione and Ginny to tell the tale; I just wanted to disappear from this house.

Tonks proved to be a pretty good friend. She listened and understood the pain I was going through. To make me feel better, she insisted that it wouldn't last and that George and I would be back on speaking terms soon.

What both Ron and Tonks said came true two days into my hiding. I was on my way to the bathroom when I literally ran into George. There was a moment of awkward silence before I managed to choke a few words out.

"Hey there, George," I muttered. He stiffened and glanced down at his feet.

"Hi, Calla," He said to the floor. There was more silence. Then he glanced into my eyes for a brief moment. "So how's your summer treating you?"

I shrugged. "Honestly, it sucks." George huffed lightly with amusement and shook his head at the floor. "How's yours?"

"It sucks," George said quietly. I offered him a small smile which he returned. The sound of footsteps above our heads interrupted our awkward conversation.

George cleared his throat. "I should head back downstairs; Fred will be wondering what happened to me."

"Yeah," I mumbled. George smiled softly and started back down the stairs. But before his ginger head disappeared, he turned back to me and grinned.

"I guess I'll be seeing you later then, Snapey." Then he vanished.

I sighed and pressed my back against the wall. It was still tense between us, but we actually managed to choke out a few words. I counted that as an improvement.


	2. 2: Blame It On the Rain

"How's Harry dealing with all of this?" I asked a week later during breakfast. Mrs. Weasley kept scooping extra clumps of molten brown sugar into my hot porridge. Ron and Hermione glanced at each other before answering.

"He doesn't know where we are. Professor Dumbledore made us promise him not to tell anything about this to Harry." Hermione said before disappearing behind the _Daily Prophet_. I turned my gaze to Ron.

"So Harry doesn't know anything about the Order?" I had been informed about the Order of the Phoenix just a few days ago and I soon learned that it was growing insanely frustrating to be where everything was happening, but you were forbidden to take part in any of it. Ron squirmed under my gaze.

"No; like Hermione said, Dumbledore has made us promise not to tell Harry anything."

"Surely you've told him something, Sirius." I said to the Azkaban escapee as he entered the kitchen. Sirius's eyes narrowed at me before he turned right around and walked out. I sighed and leaned back into my chair.

"Enough interrogating everyone, Calla," Mrs. Weasley scolded. "Finish your porridge; it'll be getting cold soon if you don't eat it."

Frustrated, I obeyed. I felt sorry for Harry; after everything he had been through last year, he deserved to at least know what the Order was doing. We all did, I thought as I glanced around the table.

* * *

As the days dragged on, my relationship with George wasn't getting any better. We still were extremely tense around one another and when we weren't around each other the suspense in the air was like lightning.

I was lying awake on night in my room. Ginny and Hermione were already asleep. I couldn't sleep with the amount of frustration and questions bouncing around in my head. Suddenly, the sound of footsteps from downstairs interrupted my irritated thoughts.

I sat up and stood at my door for a moment. The members of the Order never showed up in the middle of the night, not unless something was wrong. But what could possibly be wrong?

The door creaked slightly as I peeked into the hallway. The voices from downstairs had gotten louder. I swallowed my nervousness and stepped out into the open. Maybe tonight I could finally get some answers.

Suddenly, I heard the footsteps heading towards me, along with a hauntingly familiar voice. "Mrs. Weasley—why?"

"We'll explain everything in the morning, dear; I've really got to dash." Mrs. Weasley said in a hushed whisper so low I had to strain to hear it.

I quickly retreated back into my room and started shaking Hermione. She snarled at me, "What is it, Calla?"

"Harry's here!" I said excitedly. Hermione woke right up and left the room to go get Ron. I left the room for the boys' room. When I entered, Hermione had already woken Ron up. And standing in the middle of the room was Harry Potter himself.

"Calla?" He said blankly as I came into his sight. I smiled and nodded a greeting to my friend. Harry raised his arms up for a hug from me, which I allowed, but just briefly.

All of a sudden, everyone started asking him a thousand questions at once.

"How are you?"

"Have you been furious with us?"

"Our letters have been useless—but we couldn't tell you anything!"

"Let him breathe!" Ron shouted above all of us. I huffed a snort of laughter as Harry gaped at all of us together. At first, Harry looked happy to see us all, but then the warm look on his face turned icy as his eyes took in all of us _together_.

Hermione noticed as well. "Dumbledore seemed to think it was best; to have you stay with the Muggles, I mean."

"Right," Harry said. "Have either of you been attacked by dementors this summer?"

I frowned at him. Dementors? I remembered those fearsome creatures from my second year. I also remembered the horrific memories that they brought with them. Memories that weren't even my own…

"Well, no—but that's why he's had people from the Order of the Phoenix tailing you all the time—"

Harry's eyes flashed. "Didn't work that well, though, did it?" Harry's voice started to shake. "Had to look after myself after all, didn't I?"

"He was so angry," Hermione said in an almost awestruck voice. "Dumbledore; we heard the Howler he sent to Mundungus after he had left before his shift had ended. It was scary."

I remembered that. The Howler had burst into flames and Dumbledore's voice, magnified a thousand times louder than it already was, screamed at Mundungus, a member of the Order, after he had reportedly left his post too early.

"Well, I'm glad he left." Harry said coldly. "If he hadn't, I wouldn't have done magic and Dumbledore would probably have left me at Privet Drive all summer."

"Aren't you worried about the Ministry of Magic hearing?" Hermione asked quietly. I glanced at her and then the others. I was slightly relieved to see that I wasn't the only confused one here.

"No," Harry said defiantly. "So why's Dumbledore been so keen to keep me in the dark? Did you bother to ask him at all?"

"We told Dumbledore we wanted to tell you what was going on," Ron said. "We did. But he's really busy now, we've only heard from him twice. He only made us swear not to tell you important stuff when we wrote; he said the owls might be intercepted…"

"He could still've kept me informed if he'd wanted to," Harry said shortly. "You're telling me he doesn't know ways to send messages without owls. Maybe he thinks I can't be trusted."

I frowned at him severely. "Don't be stupid. Of course he doesn't think that!"

"So how come I have to stay at the Dursleys' while you all get to join in everything that's going on here?" Harry asked, the words tumbling over one another in a rush, his voice getting louder and louder with every word. "How come you are allowed to know everything that's going on-?"

"We're not!" I said over him. "Mrs. Weasley won't let anyone near the meetings, she says we're too young—"

"SO YOU HAVEN'T BEEN IN THE MEETINGS, BIG DEAL! YOU'VE STILL BEEN HERE, HAEVN'T YOU? YOU'VE STILL BEEN TOGETHER! ME, I'VE BEEN STUCK AT THE DURSLEYS' FOR A MONTH! AND I'VE HANDLED MORE THAN YOU ALL EVER MANAGED AND DUMBLEDORE KNOWS IT—WHO SAVED THE SORCEROR'S STONE? WHO GOT RID OF RIDDLE? WHO SAVED YOU THREE FROM THE DEMENTORS? WHO HAD TO GET PAST DRAGONS AND SPHINXES AND EVERY OTHER FOUL THING LAST YEAR? WHO SAW HIM COME BACK? WHO HAD TO ESCAPE FROM HIM? ME!"

Ron was staring at Harry with an open mouth, dumbfounded. Hermione looked to be on the verge of tears. I couldn't move; I just stood there as Harry finally ran out of anger at us and collapsed on the spare bed. He was breathing deeply. He glared at me. "What is this place anyway?" He shot at me.

"Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix," I stated coldly. Harry glared at me.

"Are you going to bother telling me what the Order of the Phoenix is?"

"It's a secret society." Hermione said quickly. "Dumbledore's in charge; he founded it. It's the people who fought against You-Know-Who last time."

"Who's in it?"

"Quite a few people; we've only met. Like, twenty." I said. "We think there are more." I stopped when he saw that Harry was still glaring daggers at us. "Problem?"

"Voldemort!" Harry said furiously. "What's happening? What's he up to? Where is he? What are we doing to stop him?"

"We've told you, the Order don't let us in on their meetings." Hermione said nervously. "So we don't know the details—but we've got a general idea." She added the last part on hastily, seeing the look on Harry's face.

There was a moment of tense silence where Harry did nothing but glare at all of us. If he really thought that we were holding information from him, he was mad. I told him so and stalked away from the room, leaving the three of them in shock. I knew that Harry was angry about being in the dark for most of the summer, but that was no reason to explode on his friends.


	3. 3: Exiled

_"Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, be gone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers—"_

I woke with a jolt to the sound of Sirius's mother's screaming. That stupid portrait of her was going to be the death of me. There was no use trying to get anymore sleep with her screaming about us all being filth, I figured. So I dragged my tired self out of bed and dressed myself with stiff and complaining joints.

"Shut up, you horrible hag, shut UP!" I heard Sirius roar at her.

_"Yooou!" _Mrs. Black howled from down the hall. _"Blood traitor, abomination, shame of my flesh!"_

"I said—shut—UP!" Sirius roared again. I rounded the corner of the hall to see that he and Lupin had just won the battle with the jinxed drapes. The old woman's screeches died and an echoing silence fell. Sirius glanced at where I was standing. "Good morning, Calla. Mrs. Weasley has lunch ready."

I found the dining room packed with people. Mrs. Weasley had herded Ginny and Hermione into helping set the table up and Mr. Weasley was talking to a tall, redheaded man who I would later learn was Bill Weasley, the oldest Weasley child. Harry stood in the corner, looking out of place. I thought back on what I had told him a few nights ago and guilt washed over the pit of my stomach.

Harry met my eyes as I approached. He offered me a small smile, to which I returned. We stood there silently for a moment, both thinking of what to say next.

"Look, I'm sorry for last night." Harry said finally. "It wasn't fair to you or Ron or Hermione; I've just been so frustrated about not being with everyone here."

I nodded without looking his way. "That's alright. I came to say that I'm sorry too." Harry smiled just a tad. I smiled back at him and nudged his arm with my elbow. Suddenly, there were two identical gingers right beside us.

"Hello there Harry," Fred said cheerfully. "We thought we heard those vocal chords of yours last night." He glanced at me slyly. "We also heard yours; way to tell him off!"

"We didn't think you were loud enough though," George added. "We're sure that there are some blokes fifty miles out who didn't hear you."

I crept away from the three of them to let them catch up. I escaped just in time for their tale of passing their Apparition exams. I managed to find a seat next to Ginny right as Mrs. Weasley announced that it was time to eat.

"I bet you're happy to have Harry back," I told Ginny in a hushed voice so that Harry wouldn't hear. Ginny glanced at me sharply.

"As a matter of fact, I am. But you know I'm dating Michael." Ginny said. I rolled my eyes at the thought of Ginny's boyfriend, Michael Corner. The boy was as interesting as a grain of sand and he was always bitter and resentful whenever I was around since they started dating.

"I'm still saying that it won't last long." I muttered. Ginny rolled her eyes at me but I noticed the blush that crept on her face.

"FRED, GEORGE—JUST CARRY THEM!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked.

Ginny and I looked around and, a spilt second later, dived away from the table. Fred and George had bewitched a large cauldron of stew, an iron flagon of butterbeer, and a heavy wooden breadboard, complete with knife, to hurtle through the air towards us. The stew skidded the length of the table and came to a halt just before the end, leaving a long black burn on the wooden surface, the flagon of butterbeer fell with a crash, spilling its contents everywhere, and the bread knife slipped off the board and landed, point down and quivering ominously, exactly where my right hand had been just seconds before.

"FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE!" Mrs. Weasley screamed. "THERE WAS NO NEED—I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS—JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE ALLOWED TO USE MAGIC NOW YOU DON'T HAVE TO WHIP YOUR WANDS OUT FOR EVERY LITTLE THING!"

"We were just trying to save a bit of time!" Fred said, hurrying forward and wrenching the bread knife out of the table. "Sorry, Snapey—didn't mean to—"

But Ginny and I were both laughing. Crookshanks had given an angry hiss and shot off under the dresser, from whence his large yellow eyes glowed in the darkness.

"Boys," Mr. Weasley said, lifting the stew back into the middle of the table. "You mother's right; you're supposed to show a sense of responsibility now you've come of age—"

"None of your brothers caused this sort of trouble!" Mrs. Weasley raged at the twins, slamming a fresh flagon of butterbeer onto the table and spilling almost as much again. "Bill didn't feel the need to Apparate every few feet! Charlie didn't Charm everything he met! Percy—"

She stopped dead, catching her breath with a frightened look at her husband, whose expression was suddenly wooden.

"Let's eat," Bill said quickly.

"It looks wonderful, Molly." Lupin said, ladling stew onto a plate for her and handing it across the table.

For a few minutes there was silence but for the chink of plates and cutlery and the scraping of chairs as everyone settled down to their food. Then Mrs. Weasley turned to Sirius and said, "I've been meaning to tell you, there's something trapped in that writing desk in the drawing room, it keeps rattling and shaking. Of course, it could just be a boggart, but I thought we ought to ask Alastor to have a look at it before we let it out."

"Whatever you like," Sirius said indifferently.

"The curtains in there are full of doxies too," Mrs. Weasley went on. "I thought we might try and tackle them tomorrow."

"I look forward to it," Sirius said. I heard the sarcasm in his voice, but I wasn't sure that anyone else did.

Tonks than started entertaining Ginny, Hermione, and I by transforming her nose between mouthfuls. Screwing up her eyes each time with a pained expression, her nose swelled to a beaklike protuberance, shrank to something resembling a button mushroom, and then sprouted a great deal of hair from each nostril. I snorted on my stew and had to cover my mouth in order to avoid spraying Harry with it.

Soon, after three helpings of Mrs. Weasley's rhubarb crumble and custard, the waistband on my jeans was feeling uncomfortably tight. I was just about to leave the table when Sirius turned to Harry suddenly.

"You know, I'm surprised at you. I thought the first thing you'd do when you got here would be to start asking questions about Voldemort."

The atmosphere in the room changed dramatically. Where seconds before it had been sleepily relaxed, it was now alert, even tense. A frisson had gone around the table at the mention of You-Know-Who's name. Lupin, who had been about to take a sip of wine, lowered his goblet slowly, looking wary.

"I did!" Harry told Sirius indignantly. "I asked Ron and Hermione but they said we're not allowed in the Order—"

"And they're quite right," Mrs. Weasley said. "You're too young." She was sitting bolt upright in her chair, her fists clenched upon its arms, every trace of drowsiness gone.

"Since when did someone have to be in the Order of the Phoenix to ask questions?" Sirius asked. "Harry's been trapped in that Muggle house for a month. He's got the right to know what's been happen—"

"Hang on!" George interrupted loudly.

"How come Harry gets his questions answered?" Fred asked angrily.

"We've been trying to get stuff out of you for a month and you haven't told us a single stinking thing!" George said.

"'_You're too young for the Order!'_" Fred said, in a high-pitched voice that sounded uncannily like his mother. "Harry's not even of age!"

"It's not your fault you haven't been told what the Order's doing." Sirius said calmly. "That's your parents' decision. Harry, on the other hand—"

"It's not down to you to decide what's good for Harry!" Mrs. Weasley said sharply. Her normally kind face looked dangerous. "You haven't forgotten what Dumbledore said, I suppose?"

"Which bit?" Sirius asked politely, but with an air as though readying himself for a fight.

"The bit about not telling Harry more than he needs to know," Mrs. Weasley said.

I was turning my head along with everyone else as the conversation went back and forth across the table as though we were all at a tennis rally. I noticed that Ginny was watching the conversation with wide eyes and a slightly open mouth. Lupin's eyes were fixed on Sirius.

"I don't intend to tell him more than he needs to know, Molly," Sirius said. "But as he was the one who saw Voldemort come back." There was a collective shudder around the table at the name. "He has more right than most to know! He's not a child!"

"He's not an adult either!" Mrs. Weasley said, the color rising in her cheeks. "He's not _James_, Sirius!"

"I'm perfectly clear who he is, thanks, Molly," Sirius said coldly.

"I'm not sure you are!" Mrs. Weasley said. "Sometimes, the way you talk about him, it's as though you think you've got your best friend back!"

Sirius glared at her through super dark eyes. "He's not your son, Molly." He said quietly.

"He's as good as," Mrs. Weasley said fiercely. "Who else has he got?"

"He's got me!"

"Yes," Mrs. Weasley said with her lip curling. "The thing is, it's been rather difficult for you to look after him while you've been locked up in Azkaban, hasn't it?"

Sirius started to rise from his chair.

"Molly, you're not the only person at this table who cares about Harry," Lupin said sharply. "Sirius, sit _down_."

Mrs. Weasley's lower lip was trembling. Sirius sank slowly into his chair, his face white. Lupin glared at both of them before continuing. "I think Harry ought to be allowed a say in this. He's old enough to decide for himself."

"I want to know what's been going on," Harry said at once. I noticed how he didn't even look at Mrs. Weasley.

"Very well," Mrs. Weasley said with her voice cracking. "Calla—Ginny—Ron—Hermione—Fred—George—I want you out of this kitchen, now."

There was an instant uproar.

"We're of age!" Fred and George bellowed together.

"If Harry's allowed, why can't I?" Ron shouted.

"Mum, I _want _to!" Ginny wailed.

"NO!" Mrs. Weasley shouted, standing up, her eyes bright. "I absolutely forbid—"

"Molly, you can't stop Fred and George," Mr. Weasley said wearily. "They _are _of age…"

Mrs. Weasley was scarlet in the face. "I—oh all right then, Fred and George can stay, but Ron—"

"Harry'll tell me and Hermione everything you say anyway!" Ron said hotly.

"Fine!" Mrs. Weasley shouted. "Fine! Ginny—Calla—BED!"

No matter how loudly Ginny and I raged, Mrs. Weasley practically had to force us both from the room. When we reached the hall, Mrs. Black's screams just added on top of all the noise. Lupin finally rushed in and got her to stop. Once we were both in our bedroom, Ginny ended up slamming the door in her mother's face.

"Does she seriously consider us children?" Ginny shouted at the walls. "I mean, we're almost the same age as Ron and Hermione, why can't we be treated like adults?"

"She thinks she's protecting us," I said in a cold and detached voice that didn't even sound like my own. "As if we haven't faced enough crap since we started Hogwarts."

We both paced angrily around the room for a few minutes before Ginny broke the silence. "Hermione is going to tell us everything they say, right?"

"I don't doubt it,"

Ginny sighed with frustration and threw herself on the bed. "I just wish that we were at Hogwarts already."

"So do I," I said softly as I stared out of the greasy window. Just a few more weeks, I thought, and then we could finally be back at Hogwarts: home.


	4. 4: The Woes of Mrs Weasley

Mrs. Weasley kept us all working very hard over the next few days. The drawing room took three days to decontaminate; finally the only undesirable things left in it were the tapestry of the Black family tree. Sirius had shown us all most of the tree; where he had been blasted off of it and where the Malfoy family rested. The dreadful thing resisted all of our attempts to remove it from the wall. Other than that the rattling writing desk with the boggart inside remained.

We had moved from the drawing room to a dining room on the ground floor where we found spiders large as saucers lurking in the dresser (Ron left the room hurriedly to make a cup of tea and did not return for a full hour). The china, which bore the Black crest and motto, was all thrown unceremoniously into a sack by Sirius, and the same fate met a set of old photographs in tarnished silver frames, all of whose occupants squealed shrilly as the glass covering them smashed.

I started to feel that we were waging war against the house. And it was putting up a pretty good fight, aided and abetted by the Black family's elderly and bitter house-elf Kreacher. The house-elf kept appearing wherever we were congregated, his muttering becoming more and more offensive as he attempted to remove anything he could from the rubbish sacks. Sirius went as far as to threaten him with clothes, but Kreacher fixed him with a watery stare and said, "Master must do as Master wishes," Then he turned away and muttered loudly, "But Master will not turn Kreacher away, no, because Kreacher knows what they are up to, oh yes, he is plotting against the Dark Lord, yes, with these Mudbloods and traitors and scum…"

Sirius, ignoring everyone's protests, then seized Kreacher by the back of his loincloth and threw him bodily from the room.

The doorbell rang several times a day, which was the cue for Sirius's mother to start shrieking again, and for the teens stuck upstairs, we got to attempt to eavesdrop on the visitor, though we gained very little from the brief glimpses and snatches of conversation we were able to sneak before Mrs. Weasley recalled us to our tasks. Dad would flit in and out of the house several times, but we were never able to actually talk other than a fleeting hello. I even saw my Transfiguration teacher, Professor McGonagall, looking very odd in Muggle dress and coat, though she also seemed too busy to linger.

Sometimes, however, the visitors stayed to help; Tonks joined us a memorable afternoon in which we found a murderous old ghoul lurking in an upstairs toilet, and Lupin helped us repair a grandfather clock that had developed the unpleasant habit of shooting heavy bolts at passersby. And I think I managed to redeem myself a little in George's eyes when I had to rescue Ginny from an ancient set of purple robes that had tried to strangle her when she removed them from the wardrobe.

On Wednesday evening Mrs. Weasley suddenly turned to Harry and said, "I've ironed your best clothes for tomorrow morning, Harry, and I want you to wash your hair tonight too. A good first impression can work wonders."

I stopped talking to Ron about the stick that he had gotten me for Christmas that I had jinxed to act like a boomerang and looked over to Harry. He nodded stiffly.

"How am I getting there?" He asked Mrs. Weasley. I could tell that he was trying to sound unconcerned; but he was failing miserably.

"Arthur's taking you to work with him," Mrs. Weasley said gently. Mr. Weasley smiled encouragingly at Harry from across the table.

"You can wait in my office until it's time for the hearing," He said. Harry nodded stiffly and couldn't eat the rest of his meal. I glanced uncertainly at Ginny and shook my head. If Harry failed his hearing, he would never come back to Hogwarts. I risked a glance at George, who was sitting farther down the table. I had already lost one close friend, I refused to lose another.

* * *

Harry was gone by the time I woke up. Mrs. Weasley had apparently made a huge breakfast for him, but he could hardly touch it. That meant that the rest of us got leftovers. I finished my homemade banana-nut muffins right as Fred and George entered the kitchen. I tensed as I met George's eyes. He halted and looked unsure of what to do.

Fred glanced between us and rolled his eyes. "Hey, Georgie, we still have some ingredients for the snackboxes to work out. D'you want to go upstairs and finish?"

George stared at his twin and jerked his head in a gut-wrenching yes. I watched him gather an armful of fruit, toast, and bacon strips before he Apparated out of sight. Fred grinned cheekily at me before doing the same. I sighed; Fred might've thought that he did me a favor, but he was only making it worse.

I left the kitchen; no one else was awake and I was seriously considering going back to bed. I crept quietly past Mrs. Black's portrait and was almost to my room when I heard the unmistakable sound of sobbing. I glanced at my door, wondering if I should just ignore whoever was crying and try and sleep some more. But with a groan, I turned around and opened the door with the crying. I saw Mrs. Weasley kneeling in the drawing room and weeping into her hands. And before her was Ron's bloody body lying dead in front of her.

_What? _How could Ron be dead? What had happened? I opened my mouth to call for help when Mrs. Weasley raised her wand.

"Mrs. Weasley?" I croaked.

_"R-r-riddikulus!" _Mrs. Weasley sobbed, pointing her shaking wand at Ron's body.

There was an ear-splitting crack and Ron's body turned to Bill's, spread-eagle on his back, his eyes wide open and empty. Mrs. Weasley sobbed even harder.

"_R-riddikulus!" _She sobbed again. Mr. Weasley's body replaced Bill's, a trickle of blood running down his face.

"No!" Mrs. Weasley moaned. "No…_riddikulus! Riddikulus! Riddikulus! RIDDIKULUS!"_

Crack. Dead Percy. Crack. Dead twins. Crack Dead Harry. Crack. Dead Calla…

"Mrs. Weasley just get out of there!" I shouted, staring at my own dead body on the floor, a deep gash slashing across my forehead. "Let someone else—"

"What's going on?"

Lupin had come running into the room, closely followed by Sirius. Lupin looked from Mrs. Weasley to the dead Calla on the floor to where I was standing and seemed to understand in an instant. Pulling out his wand he said, very firmly and clearly, _"Riddikulus!"_

My body vanished. A silvery orb hung in the air over the spot where it had lain. Lupin waved once more and the orb vanished in a puff of smoke.

"Oh-oh-oh!" Mrs. Weasley gulped. She broke into a storm of crying, her face in her hands.

"Molly," Lupin said bleakly, walking over to her. "Molly, don't…"

Next second she was sobbing her heart out on Lupin's shoulder. "Molly, it was just a boggart; just a stupid boggart…"

"I see them d-dead all the time!" Mrs. Weasley moaned into his shoulder. "All the t-t-time! I d-dream about it…"

Sirius was staring at the patch of carpet where the boggart, pretending to be my corpse, had lain. He looked up at me and I left the room. I didn't go back to bed like I had wanted. Instead I found an empty room and closed the door.

I pressed my back against the door and closed my eyes. That boggart had pretended to be us; all of us. Mrs. Weasley had seen all of our dead bodies. I slid down the door and buried my face in my hands. I'm not sure how long I stayed in that position, just that I didn't emerge again until I heard the door opening, which meant that Harry was back from his hearing. I cleared my throat and headed downstairs to see how my friend had done.

* * *

**A/N: I highly suggest listening to the songs "What If" by Safetysuit and "Sooner or Later" by Mat Kearney. They're the songs that I've listened to the most while writing this installment of "The Professor's Daughter", that and they're just really good songs.**

**I just wanted to throw that out there.**


	5. 5: What If

"He got off! He got off! He got off!" Ginny and I chanted loudly around the kitchen as Harry watched with a distinct redness creeping up his face. Fred and George were dancing nearby, sandwiching Hermione between them and joining us in our embarrassing war chant. Hermione was looking mortified.

"Be quiet, you kids!" Mr. Weasley told us calmly. He continued talking to Mrs. Weasley and Lupin and Sirius about seeing someone at the Ministry while we ignored his direct order. Ginny had grabbed my hands and we were now jumping up and down as our chant got faster. Kreacher poked his snoutlike nose into the kitchen to investigate the source of all the noise.

"'Course, once Dumbledore turned up on your side, there was no way they were going to convict you." Ron said happily.

"He got off! He got off! He got off! He got off!"

"SHUT UP!" Mrs. Weasley ordered.

* * *

Over the next few I noticed that there was one person within number twelve, Grimmauld Place, who did not seem wholly overjoyed that Harry would be returning to Hogwarts. Sirius had put up a very good show of happiness on first hearing the news, but now, however, he was moodier and surlier than before, spending increasing amounts of time shut up in his mother's room with Buckbeak.

"Don't you go feeling guilty!" Hermione told Harry sternly one day. I was working on scrubbing out a moldy cupboard one day with Harry and Hermione when he had confided about his guilt about Sirius's crappy mood. "You belong at Hogwarts and Sirius knows it. Personally, I think he's being selfish."

"That's a bit harsh, don't you think, Hermione?" I frowned at her. I started to claw off a piece of mold that had attached itself firmly to my finger. "I doubt that you'd want to be stuck inside this house without company."

"He'll have company!" Hermione said. "It's headquarters to the Order of the Phoenix, isn't it? He just got his hopes up that Harry would be coming to live here with him."

"I don't think that's true," Harry said, wringing out his cloth. "He wouldn't give me a straight answer when I asked if I could."

"He just didn't want to get his own hopes up even more," Hermione said wisely. "And he probably felt a bit guilty himself, because I think a part of him was really hoping you'd be expelled. Then you would both be outcasts."

"Enough!" I said firmly. Hermione glanced at me and shrugged.

"Suit yourself. But I sometimes think Mrs. Weasley's right, and that Sirius gets confused about whether you're you or your father, Harry."

Harry and I glanced at each other in a mutual doubtfulness. Fortunately, at that moment Mrs. Weasley entered and invited us to join the rest for lunch.

* * *

On the last day of holidays the booklists finally arrived. I had just finished feeding Rowling when Ginny entered the room with two envelopes. She handed me the one addressed to me and together we opened them up.

"_The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4 _and _Defensive Magical Theory_," I read aloud. "We only have two new ones this year."

"I wonder who Dumbledore got to be Defense Against the Dark Arts," Ginny said. "I was sure he'd have trouble finding one this year."

"Well since we've been at Hogwarts, one's memory removed, one sacked, and one locked in a trunk for nine months." I said, counting them off on my fingers. "I see what you mean."

Mrs. Weasley entered the room with our fresh laundry. "What would that be, girls?"

"Book lists finally arrived," I answered, waving the envelopes in the air. Mrs. Weasley nodded and took the lists from us.

"I guess that means I'll have to go to Diagon Alley this afternoon."

"Can we go with you?" Ginny asked her mother eagerly. But Mrs. Weasley shook her head sadly.

"I'm sorry dearie, but I just don't think that it would be safe for our large group to go out today."

Ginny sighed and started to pack again. Mrs. Weasley left the room. I started to pick up Rowling's droppings from the bottom of her cage. Suddenly, there was a loud cry from upstairs.

Ginny and I wasted no time running upstairs and into Harry and Ron's bedroom, where Mrs. Weasley had just knocked George out of the way to smother her youngest son in a fury of proud kisses.

"What just happened?" I asked no one in particular. George glanced at me warily and, after a brief hesitation, answered.

"Little Ronnie's a _prefect_ now." George sneered.

"He's a what?" Ginny asked with her mouth hanging open. Mrs. Weasley looked to be having a moment of sheer happiness.

"Oh, Ron, how wonderful! A prefect! That's everyone in the family!"

"What are Fred and I, next-door neighbors?" George asked indignantly. Mrs. Weasley ignored him and continued smothering Ron.

"Wait until your father hears! Ron, I'm so proud of you, what wonderful news, you could end up Head Boy just like Bill and Percy, and it's the first step! Oh, what a thing to happen in the middle of all this worry, I'm just thrilled, oh _Ronnie_—"

Fred and George were both making loud retching noises behind her back but Mrs. Weasley did not notice; arms right around Ron's neck, she was kissing him all over his face, which had turned a brighter scarlet than his new badge.

I shook my head and left the room. Good for Ron, I thought to myself. Fred and George were only reacting that way because of all the trouble they had gotten into at the hands of prefects, I supposed. The entire time I walked away, I couldn't help but feel a burning pair of amber eyes on my back.


	6. 6: Back Where I Belong

There was a lot of commotion in the house. From where I heard as I dressed at top speed, Fred and George had bewitched their trunks to fly downstairs to save the time of carrying them, with the result that they had hurtled straight into Ginny and knocked her down two flights of stairs and into the hall. Mrs. Black and Mrs. Weasley were both screaming at the top of their voices.

"YOU COULD HAVE DONE HER A SERIOUS INJURY, YOU IDIOTS!"

"FILTHY HALF-BREEDS, BESMIRCHING THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS!"

"WILL YOU LOT GET DOWN HERE NOW, PLEASE?"

Mrs. Black's portrait was howling with rage but nobody was bothering to close the curtains over her; all the noise in the hall was bound to rouse her again anyway.

"Calla, you're to come with me, Tonks, and Harry," Mrs. Weasley shouted over the repeated screeches of _"MUDBLOODS! SCUM! CREATURES OF DIRT!" _"Leave your trunk and your owl, Alastor's going to deal with the luggage…Oh, for heaven's sake, Sirius, Dumbledore said no!"

A bearlike, black dog had appeared between me and Harry as we tried to clamber over trunks to reach Mrs. Weasley.

"Oh, honestly…" Mrs. Weasley said despairingly. "Well, on your own head be it!" She wrenched open the door and stepped out into the weak September sunlight. Harry, the dog, and I followed her. The door slammed shut behind us and Mrs. Black's screeches were cut off instantly.

"Where's Tonks?" Harry asked. I looked around as we traveled down the stone steps of number twelve, which vanished the moment we reached the pavement.

"She's waiting for us just up here," Mrs. Weasley said stiffly, averting her eyes from the lolloping black dog beside us.

An old woman greeted us on the corner. She had tightly curled gray hair and wore a purple hat shaped like a porkpie. "Wotcher, kiddies," She said, winking. "Better hurry up, hadn't we, Molly?" She checked her watch.

"I know, I know," Mrs. Weasley moaned, lengthening her stride. "But Mad-Eye wanted to wait for Sturgis…If only Arthur could have got us cars from the Ministry again…but Fudge wouldn't let him borrow so much as an empty bottle of ink these days…_How _Muggles can stand traveling without magic…"

But the great black dog gave a joyful bark and gamboled around us, snapping at pigeons and chasing its own tail. I couldn't help laughing. Sirius had been trapped inside for a very long time. Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips as she watched him gallop around us all.

It took us twenty minutes to reach King's Cross by foot and nothing more eventful happened during that time than Sirius scaring a couple of cats for our entertainment. One inside the station we lingered casually beside the barrier between platforms nine and ten until the coast was clear, then each of us leaned against it in turn and fell easily through onto platform nine and three quarters. The Hogwarts Express stood belching sooty steam over a platform packed with departing students and their families. I inhaled the familiar smell and felt my spirits soar. I was going home…

"I hope the others make it in time," Mrs. Weasley said anxiously, staring at the wrought-iron arch spanning the platform.

"Nice dog!" A tall bot with dreadlocks called over.

"Thanks Lee," Harry said grinning. Sirius wagged his tail frantically.

"Oh, good," Mrs. Weasley said, sounding relieved. "Here's Alastor with the luggage, look…"

A porter's cap pulled low over his mismatched eyes, Moody came limping through the archway pushing a cart full of our trunks. "All okay," He muttered to Mrs. Weasley and Tonks. "Don't think we were followed…"

Seconds later, Mr. Weasley emerged onto the platform with Ron and Hermione. They had almost unloaded Moody's luggage cart when Fred, George, and Ginny turned up with Lupin.

"No trouble?" Moody growled.

"Nothing," Lupin said.

"I'll still be reporting Sturgis to Dumbledore," Moody said. "That's the second time he's not turned up in a week; getting as unreliable as Mundungus."

"Well, look after yourselves," Lupin said, shaking hands all round.

"All of you, careful what you put in writing." Moody growled. "If in doubt, don't put it in a letter at all."

"It's been great meeting all of you," Tonks said as she hugged me, Hermione, and Ginny. "We'll see you soon, I expect."

A warning whistle sounded; the students still on the platform started hurrying onto the train.

"Quick, quick," Mrs. Weasley said distractedly, hugging us all at random and catching me twice. "Write…Be good…If you've forgotten anything we'll send it on…Onto the train, now, hurry…"

I saw Sirius rear onto his back paws and rest his front paws on Harry's shoulders. But then Mrs. Weasley shoved Harry away toward the train door hissing, "For heaven's sake act more like a dog, Sirius!"

"See you!" I called out the open window as the train began to move, while Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny waved beside me. The figures of Tonks, Lupin, Moody, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley shrank rapidly but the black dog was bounding alongside the window, wagging its tail. Blurred people on the platform were laughing to see it chasing the train, and then we turned the corner, and Sirius was gone.

"He shouldn't have come with us," Hermione said in a worried voice.

"Oh, lighten up," Ron said. "He hasn't seen daylight for months, poor bloke."

The train started gathering more speed, so that the houses outside the window flashed past and we swayed where we stood. Fred and George announced that they had business to discuss with their friend, Lee Jordan. I suppressed a sigh as I watched George's figure leave my sight. If anyone else heard, they didn't acknowledge it, for which I was thankful.

"Shall we go and find a compartment, then?" Harry asked Ron and Hermione. They exchanged looks.

"We're—well—Ron and I are supposed to go into the prefect carriage," Hermione said awkwardly. Ron wasn't looking at Harry; he seemed to have become intensely interested in the fingernails on his left hand.

"We'll meet up with you later, okay?" Hermione told him. Harry just nodded stiffly and turned towards me and Ginny.

"Lead the way," He said blankly. I glanced over his shoulder to see Ron and Hermione looking very awkward and slightly guilty.

Together we struggled off down the corridor, peering through the glass-paneled doors into the compartments we passed. They were all already full. I couldn't help but notice that a lot of people stared back at us with great interest and that several of them nudged their neighbors and pointed at Harry. I remembered that the _Daily Prophet _had been telling its readers all summer that Harry was nothing more than a lying show-off. I wondered bleakly how many people in these compartments actually believed those stories.

In the very last carriage we met Neville Longbottom, a fifth year Gryffindor. He smiled at Harry and Ginny but ducked his head shyly at the sight of me. I sighed and smiled as politely as I could without getting frustrated with him for seeing his least favorite professor.

"Everywhere's full," Neville told us miserably. "I can't find a seat."

"What are you talking about?" I asked him, peering into the compartment right beside us. "There's room in this one, only Lovegood's in here—"

Neville mumbled something about not wanting to disturb anyone.

"Don't be silly," Ginny said, laughing. "She's alright, a little loony, but otherwise okay." With those words, I slid the door open and pulled my trunk inside. Ginny, Harry, and Neville followed.

"Hi, Luna," I said. "Is it okay if we take those seats?"

Luna looked up from her upside down magazine. Her eyes ranged over Neville and came to rest on Harry. She nodded.

"Thanks," I said, smiling at her.

We all loaded our trunks up on the luggage rack and sat down. Luna watched us the whole time over her upside down magazine. By craning my neck the right way, I saw that it was a new addition of _The Quibbler_.

"Anything interesting?" I asked, gesturing to the magazine. Luna glanced down at what she was reading then back at me and nodded dreamily. Then she turned her pale eyes to Harry.

"_You're _Harry Potter," She said hazily.

"I know I am," Harry said. Neville chuckled. Luna turned her eyes upon him instead.

"And I don't know who you are."

"I'm nobody," Neville said immediately.

"No you're not," I said sharply. "Neville Longbottom—Luna Lovegood. Luna's in my year, but in Ravenclaw."

"_Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure,_" Luna said in a singsong voice. She then raised her upside down magazine high enough to hide her face and fell silent. Harry and Neville looked at each other with their eyebrows raised. Ginny and I suppressed giggles. At that moment with my friends, I wasn't completely happy, but it was the closest I had been in a long time.


	7. 7: The Ministry at Hogwarts

The Entrance Hall was ablaze with torches and echoing with footsteps as the students crossed the flagged stone floor for the double doors to the right, leading to the Great Hall and for the start-of-term feast.

The four long House tables were filling up under the starless black ceiling. Candles floated in midair all along the tables, illuminating the silvery ghosts who were dotted about the Hall and the faces of the students talking eagerly to one another, exchanging summer news, shouting greetings at friends from other Houses, eyeing one another's new haircuts and robes.

I reluctantly drifted away from Ginny, Harry, Neville, and Luna to sit at my "proper" place at the Slytherin table. A pretty girl named Astoria Greengrass offered me a small smile before turning back to her actual friends. I returned the smile, but it soon faded away. I was being watched…

Jaime Clegane looked just like how I left him. His golden locks had grown longer since the end of the year, but if anything, it only made him look even more handsome. His face had lost all traces of child-like roundness and had become sharper around the cheekbones. And his emerald eyes still shined brilliantly on his pale face. But the sight of him just filled me up just caused my blood to boil.

Anger didn't begin to describe what I felt towards Jaime Clegane. At one point, in our early Hogwarts years, we had been pretty close. But jealousy had consumed Jaime, and he had sought out to destroy what I had wanted nothing more. He forced me to act like I had never cared for George. And for that, I wouldn't, I _couldn't _forgive him.

Jaime stared back at me. I watched his jaw tighten and his face got even paler. A dozen different emotions crossed across his face, the one I noticed the most was the one that looked like regret.

I curled my lip at him and stalked down to a seat as far away from him as possible.

"Hi Calla!" A new voice shouted. I looked up from my fury to see a friendlier and kinder face. Tyrion Clegane was nothing like his cousin Jaime. He was kinder and more open, and not a complete jealous maniac. And he wasn't a pure-blood obsessed creep like the rest of the Clegane family.

"Hello, Tyrion," I said with a smile. "How was your summer?"

Tyrion shrugged. "It was okay. My sister wanted me to do tricks." I laughed.

"Look; Dumbledore's about to talk!" Tyrion called suddenly. I followed his gaze to see the Headmaster stand in his chair, looking very proud indeed.

"To our newcomers," Dumbledore said in a ringing voice. "Welcome! To our old hands—welcome back! I now beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices. First years ought to know that the forest is out of bounds to students—and a few of our older students ought to know by now too," He glanced at the Gryffindor table quickly as he said this. "Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four hundred and sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch's door.

"We have two new changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

There was a round of polite but fairly unenthusiastic applause during which I got a good look at the woman who cheated Dad out of his dream job.

Professor Umbridge was squat, with short, curly, mouse-brown hair in which she had placed a horrible pink Alice band that matched the fluffy pink cardigan she wore over her robes. She had a pallid, toadlike face and a pair of prominent, pouchy eyes.

"She looks…nice?" Tyrion's fake compliment came out as a question.

Dumbledore continued. "Tryouts for House Quidditch teams will take place on the—"

He cut off, looking inquiringly at Professor Umbridge. As she was not much taller standing than sitting, there was a moment when nobody understood why Dumbledore had stopped talking, but then Professor Umbridge said, _"Hem, hem," _and it became clear that she had got to her feet and was intending to make a speech.

Dumbledore only looked taken aback for a moment, and then he sat back down and looked alertly at Professor Umbridge as though he desired nothing better than to listen to her talk. Other members of the staff were not as adept at hiding their surprise. Professor Sprout's eyebrows had disappeared into her flyaway hair, and Professor McGonagall's mouth was a thin as I had ever seen it. No new teacher had ever interrupted Dumbledore before. Many of the students were smirking; this woman obviously did not know how things were done at Hogwarts.

"Thank you, Headmaster," Professor Umbridge simpered in a surprisingly high-pitched voice that took me aback; I had been expecting a croak. "I thank you for those kind words of welcome."

Her voice was high-pitched, breathy, and little-girlish and I felt a powerful rush of dislike that I could not explain to myself; all I knew was that I loathed everything about this woman, from her stupid voice to her fluffy pink cardigan. She gave another little throat-clearing cough (_"Hem, hem",_) and continued: "Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!" She smiled, revealing very white and perfectly even teeth that, for some reason, made me hate her even more. "And to see such happy little faces looking back at me!"

I glanced around. None of the faces I could see looked happy; on the contrary, they all looked rather taken aback at being addressed as though they were five year olds.

"I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all, and I'm sure we'll be very good friends!"

Students exchanged looks at this; some of them were barely containing grins.

"I'll be her friend as long as I don't have to borrow that cardigan," Astoria whispered to her friend. Both of them lapsed into giggles.

"The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the Wizarding community must be passed down through the generations lest we lose them forever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished, and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching."

Professor Umbridge paused here and made a little bow to her fellow staff members, none of whom bowed back. Dad's dark eyebrows had contracted so that he looked positively hawklike.

"Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this heroic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, for our tired and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation…"

On and on it went! The quiet that always filled the Hall when Dumbledore was speaking was breaking up as students put their heads together, whispering and giggling. Tyrion laid his head down on the table and didn't return. Yet, I couldn't look away from Umbridge. She was just hiding her real meaning for being at Hogwarts in those big words she was using. All of it just decomposed down to one meaning.

The Ministry was interfering at Hogwarts.


	8. 8: Professor Umbridge

Divination was my first class of the new year. I climbed the massive amounts of stairs to the North Tower, feeling out of breath and sweating up a storm by the time I was halfway up there.

Ginny and Luna met me at our usual table and both smiled at me in a welcoming like fashion. I tried to return the favor but the heavy amounts of incense lit in the cramped room was making my head feel extremely stupid.

"Good day," Professor Trelawney said in her usual misty, dreamy voice. "And welcome back to Divination. I have, of course, been following your fortunes most carefully over the holidays, and am delighted to see that you have all returned to Hogwarts safely—as, of course, I knew you would.

"You will find on the tables before you copies of _The Dream Oracle_, by Inigo Imago. Dream interpretation is a most important means of divining the future and one that may very probably be tested in your future O.W.L. Not, of course, that I believe examination passes or failures are the remotest importance when it comes to the sacred art of divination. If you have the Seeing Eye, certificates and grades matter very little. However, the headmaster likes you to sit the examination, so…"

Her voice trailed away delicately, leaving us all in no doubt that Professor Trelawney considered her subject above such sordid matters as examinations.

"Turn, please, to the introduction and read what Imago has to say on the matter of dream interpretation. Then divide into pairs. Use _The Dream Oracle _to interpret each other's most recent dreams. Carry on."

"I never remember my dreams," I said lamely as Trelawney swept away from us.

Ginny shrugged. "Well, I had one that I was playing Quidditch the other night," She screwed up her face in an effort to remember. "What d'you think that means?"

"Probably that you're going to be eaten by a giant marshmallow or something." I said, turning the pages of _The Dream Oracle _without interest.

It was very dull class as Ginny and I tried to dissect each other's dreams without any real interest. It was a miracle when the bell rang. Then I remembered that I had Defense Against the Dark Arts next.

Ginny and I trudge back downstairs to Umbridge's new classroom. When we entered the room we found Professor Umbridge already sitting at the teacher's desk, wearing the same fluffy pink cardigan from the night before. There was black velvet bow on top of her head today, and I was reminded of a large fly perched unwisely on top of an even larger toad.

The class was quiet as it entered the room. Umbridge was, as yet, an unknown quantity and nobody knew yet how strict a disciplinarian she was likely to be.

"Well, good morning!" She said when finally the whole class had sat down. A few people mumbled good mornings in reply. "Tut, tut," Umbridge said. "That won't do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply, 'Good morning, Professor Umbridge'. One more time, please. Good morning, class!"

"Good morning, Professor Umbridge," I chanted along with the rest of the class.

"There, now," Professor Umbridge said sweetly. "That wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please."

Many of the class exchanged gloomy looks; the order "wands away" had never yet been followed by a lesson we had found interesting. I shoved my wand back inside my bag and pulled out my quill, ink, and paper. Professor Umbridge opened her handbag, extracted her own wand, which was an unusually short one, and tapped the blackboard sharply with it; words appeared on the board at once: _Defense Against the Dark Arts: A Return to Basic Principles_.

"Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it?" Umbridge stated, turning to face the class with her hands clasped neatly in front of her. "The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your fourth year.

"You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centered, and Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please."

She rapped the blackboard again: the first message vanished and was replaced by a list of course aims. For a couple of minutes the room was full of the sound of scratching quills on paper. When everyone had copied down Professor Umbridge's three course aims she said, "Has everybody got a copy of _Defensive Magical Theory _by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

"Yes, Professor Umbridge," The class called out.

"Good," Umbridge said in sickly sweet voice. "I should like you to turn to page five and read chapter one, 'Basics for Beginners'. There will be no need to talk." She left the blackboard and settled down in the chair behind the teacher's desk, observing us all with those pouchy toad's eyes. Everyone opened their books and bent their heads down to read.

Everyone except me.

If I was right about Umbridge's assignment, it meant that she didn't want us learning _any _sort of magic. The whole point of this class was to help us learn how to defend ourselves against things that would want to do us harm. I raised my hand for Umbridge.

Umbridge's eyes met mine quite a few times but she just turned her head away from me to gaze at some other student. I gritted my teeth and raised my hand even higher. Ginny looked up to watch me struggle to get Umbridge's attention.

After several more minutes had passed, Ginny wasn't the only one watching me. Jaime was looking at me like I was a lost puppy and his twin sister Cersei was smirking at me as she waited for me to be reprimanded.

When more than half the class was staring at me rather than at the book, Professor Umbridge seemed to decide that she could ignore the situation no more.

"Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?" She asked me, as though she had just noticed me.

"I have a question about your course aims," I said. Umbridge raised her eyebrows.

"And your name is-?"

"Calla Snape,"

"Well, Miss Snape, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully," Umbridge told me in a voice of determined sweetness.

"Well, I don't," I said bluntly. "There's nothing written up there about _using _defensive spells."

There was a short silence in which many members of the class turned their heads to frown at the three course aims still written on the blackboard. Professor Umbridge still had her fake sweet smile on her face but I saw inside her eyes, and they were raging silently. I got the feeling that I had just awakened a storm.


	9. 9: Comes and Goes

"_Using_ defensive spells?" Professor Umbridge repeated with a little laugh. "Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to _use_ a defensive spell, Miss Snape. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?"

"We're not going to use magic?" Ginny asked loudly.

"Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Miss…"

"Weasley," Ginny said, thrusting her hand into the air.

Umbridge, still smiling widely, turned her back on her. I glanced at Ginny before throwing my hand back into the air. Ginny followed my lead and, surprisingly, so did Jaime. Umbridge's pouchy eyes lingered on me a moment before she addressed Jaime.

"Yes, Mr.…"

"Clegane," Jaime said. "Surely the whole point of Defense Against the Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells?"

"Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Mr. Clegane?" Professor Umbridge asked in her falsely sweet voice.

"No, but—"

"Well, than, I'm afraid you are not qualified to decide what the 'whole point' of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new program of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way—"

"What use is that?" I asked loudly, tossing my hand into the air. "If we're going to be attacked it won't be in a—"

But Umbridge turned her back on me sharply, cutting me off. By now, several other people had their hands up.

"And your name is?" Umbridge asked Astoria.

"Astoria Greengrass,"

"Well, Miss Greengrass?"

"It's like what Calla said, isn't it? If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk-free—"

"I repeat, do you expect to be attacked during my classes?" Umbridge asked, smiling in a very irritating fashion at Astoria.

"No, but—"

Professor Umbridge talked over her. "I do not wish to criticize the way things have been run in this school but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed—not to mention," She gave a nasty little laugh. "Extremely dangerous half-breeds,"

"If you mean Professor Lupin," I piped up angrily, feeling my blood begin to boil. "He was the best we ever—"

"_Hand_, Miss Snape! As I was saying—you have been introduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriate to your age group, and potentially lethal. You have been frightened into believing that you are likely to meet Dark wizard attacks every other day—"

"Ne we haven't," Ginny said. "We just—"

"_Your hand is not up, Miss Weasley!_"

Ginny put her hand up; Professor Umbridge turned away from her. "I must say, that as long as you have studied the theory hard enough—"

"And what good's theory going to be in the real world?" I asked loudly, my hand in the air. Professor Umbridge looked up to see directly into my eyes.

"This is school, Miss Snape, not the real world," She said softly. "There is nothing waiting out there to murder you in your sleep."

"Oh yeah?" I asked. My blood was boiling now. "What about Lord Voldemort? Hm, if he's not really out there, I expect Cedric Diggory just dropped dead, am I right?"

Ginny gasped; Astoria uttered a little scream; Colin Creevey slipped sideways off his stool. Professor Umbridge, however, did not flinch. She was staring at me with a grim look that set my boiling blood to ice.

"Ten points from Slytherin, Miss Snape," She said with what sounded suspiciously like triumph. The classroom was silent and still. Everyone was either staring at me or Umbridge.

"What happened to the Hufflepuff boy was nothing more than a tragic accident. The Dark Lord did not rise from the grave, as a young Mr. Potter supposedly says—"

"Harry's not lying," I said, frustrated. "If he says that Voldemort's back, then I believe him one hundred percent."

Umbridge narrowed her pouchy eyes. "Why would you do such a thing?"

"Because Harry's one of my best friends and if he says it happened, it happened." I told her in a cold and defiant voice.

"Detention, Miss Snape; five o' clock sharp," Umbridge said in her stupid sweet voice. I wanted to punch her across that fat jawline of hers. She spun around and paced the length of the classroom to her desk and pulled a small role of pink paper out of her handbag. She quickly dipped her quill into a bottle of ink and scribbled something onto it. When she finished, she tapped the paper with her wand and it sealed itself seamlessly so that one could not open it. "Take this to your father, Miss Snape. I'm sure he'd like to discuss this matter with you."

I snatched the paper from Umbridge's fat hand and stalked out the class and down to the dungeons.

* * *

"I've been sent to see you," I told Dad stiffly when I found him outside his classroom. Dad took the note from Umbridge and began to read. His eyes zoomed from side to side as he read whatever Umbridge had written, and with each line they became narrower.

"Come in here, Calla," He finally said. I followed him into his empty classroom, or almost empty classroom. There was a lone first year sitting in the front table of the class. I could feel the frustration and anger rolling off of her shoulders from the back.

"Don't turn 'round, Miss Summerfell," Dad snapped at her. "You are not allowed to leave until your detention is finished."

"What did she do?" I asked without thinking. Dad glanced between us and narrowed his eyes at the eleven year old.

"Miss Summerfell thought it was amusing for her to throw a jar of frogspawn at my skull. She will be here every day after school until she learns her lesson."

I faked a solemn and approving look for Dad, but once his back was turned I gave the small first year a thumbs up. She straightened and looked momentarily confused but smiled anyway.

"Is it true that you shouted at Professor Umbridge?" Dad asked.

"Yes," I said. Summerfell leaned forward to listen better.

"You told her that the Dark Lord is back?"

"Yes,"

Dad sat down behind his desk, frowning at me. Then he said. "Have a biscuit, Calla."

"Have a what?" I asked to make sure I had heard him right. Summerfell's eyebrows disappeared into her hair.

"Have a biscuit," Dad repeated impatiently, indicating tartan tin covered behind his desk. He lifted it and rested it on a pile of papers. "I expected you to come down here eventually to speak with me. I just hoped that it would be over something more…personal than a detention from Umbridge."

I sank into the chair opposite to Dad and helped myself to a Ginger Newt, feeling very confused. Summerfell sighed from behind me. I made a mental note to save a biscuit for her as well.

Dad set down Professor Umbridge's not and looked at me very seriously. "Calla, you need to be careful."

I swallowed my mouthful of Ginger Newt and stared at him. His tone was not at all what I was used to; it was not brisk, crisp, and stern; it was low and anxious and somehow much more human than usual.

"Misbehavior in Dolores Umbridge's class could cost you much more than House points and a detention."

"What do you—"

"Calla, use your common sense," Dad snapped, with an abrupt return to his normal behavior. "You know where she comes from, you must know to whom she's reporting." The bell rang for the end of class. Overhead came the elephantine sounds of hundreds of students on the move. Summerfell was taking her time leaving the room; she wanted us to finish our conversation.

"Didn't you listen to Umbridge's speech at the start-of-term feast, Calla?"

"Yeah," I said. "She said that progress will be prohibited or…" I paused and thought back. "The Ministry is trying to interfere at Hogwarts."

Dad eyed me for a moment and pointed in the direction of the door. I took a handful of biscuits before I left. Dad looked like he wanted to say something else, but he held his tongue. I left, but not before handing a biscuit to Summerfell, who was outside the door with her ear pressed up against the wood.

* * *

**A/N: "Comes and Goes" by Greg Laswell. That song has to do with one of the main themes in "Professor's Daughter" from now on, but I listened to that song nonstop while writing this particular chapter. Also, I have posted the first part of the soundtrack for "Professor's Daughter" on my profile, so if you're interested, you should go listen to it. **

**That's it for now, see y'all later!**


	10. 10: Detention with Dolores

I had known this office under only two of its other occupants. In the days of Gilderoy Lockhart, it had been plastered with beaming portraits of its owner. When Lupin had occupied it, it was likely you would meet some fascinating Dark creature in a cage or tank.

Now, however, it looked totally unrecognizable. The surfaces had all been draped in lacy covers and cloths. There were several vases full of dried flowers, each residing on its own doily, and on one of the walls was a collection of ornamental plates, each decorated with a technicolor kitten wearing a different bow around its neck. These were all so foul, that I was transfixed until Professor Umbridge spoke.

"Good evening, Miss Snape,"

"Evening," I replied stiffly.

"Well, sit down," Umbridge said in her sweet voice. She pointed toward a small table draped in lace beside which she had drawn up a straight-backed chair. A piece of blank paper lay on the table, apparently waiting for me.

She watched me with her head slightly to one side as I sat down in front of her. "There," She said sweetly. "We're getting along better already, aren't we, dearie. I'm sure your mother would be proud."

My head shot up and my heart thumped hard in my chest. I stared at Umbridge with what I could only guess was pure shock. She giggled her stupid laugh that now sent chills up my spine.

"Oh yes, dearie, your mother and I were Sorted into Slytherin together; just a few years before your father came into Hogwarts. Oh yes, Margaret and I were very good friends. That is, we _were _very good friends, right up until she decided that her loyalties lay with the Dark Lord. This is why it is the upmost importance that we remain loyal. Otherwise our loved ones will get hurt, do you understand that, little Calla?"

I understood perfectly. I understood that Umbridge had just threatened me.

"I believe it's time for you to begin your detention, dearie. Here's a special quill, just for you." Umbridge told me in a falsely sweet voice that tempted me to rip her face off. I took the quill from her fat hand in silence, still quite shell-shocked. "I want you to write, _'I will be loyal,'_"

"How many times?" I asked in a hollow voice.

"Oh, as long as it takes for the message to _sink in_," Umbridge said softly. "Off you go," She bent over a stack of papers that looked like essays for marking. I raised the sharp, black quill that she had given me and then realized what was missing.

"You haven't given me any ink," I said.

"You won't need ink," Umbridge said with the merest suggestion of a laugh in her voice. "Your mother invented that quill herself; she was such a dear to let me use it after she was sentenced to Azkaban."

I nodded stiffly and placed the point of the quill on the paper and wrote: _I will be loyal._

I let out a gasp of pain. The words had appeared on the paper in what appeared to be shining red ink. At the same time, the words had appeared on the back of my left hand, cut into my skin as though traced there by a scalpel—yet even as I stared at the shining cut, the skin healed over again, leaving the place where it had been slightly redder than before but quite smooth.

I looked up at Umbridge. She was watching me, her wide, toadlike mouth stretched in a smile. "Yes?"

"Nothing," I said quietly.

I looked back at the paper, placed the quill upon it once more, wrote _I will be loyal_, and felt the searing pain on the back of my hand for a second time. Once again the words had been cut into my hand; once again they healed over seconds later.

And on it went. Again and again I wrote the words on the paper in what I soon came to realize was not ink, but my own blood. And again and again the words were cut into the back of my hand, healed, and then reappeared the next time I set the quill to paper.

Darkness fell outside Umbridge's window. I did not ask when I would be allowed to stop. I did not even check the watch I had remembered to bring. I knew that she was watching me for signs of weakness and I was not going to show her any.

"Come here," She said, after what seemed hours.

I stood up. My hand was stinging painfully. When I looked down at it I saw that the cut had healed, but that the skin there was red raw.

"Hand," Umbridge said.

"I extended it. She took it in her own. I repressed a shudder as she touched me with her thick, stubby fingers on which she wore a number of ugly old rings.

"Tut, tut, I don't seem to have made much of an impression yet." She said with a smile. "Well, we'll just have to try again tomorrow evening, won't we? You may go."

I left her office without a word. The school was quite deserted; it was surely past midnight. I walked slowly up the corridor then, when I had turned the corner and was sure that she would not hear me, broke into a run.

I wasn't sure as to where I was running to. Tears had started to form in my eyes long before the detention was over and now that I was away from Umbridge's gaze, they fell freely. Another pair of footsteps sounded from the next corridor, so I ducked behind a tapestry. I held my breath and opened my eyes to the outline of the tapestry. Magpies…

I spun around and tapped the brick wall, chanting the words as quickly as I could. The secret door appeared for me and I dove inside. The dark staircase was the same as it had been. I started climbing the stairs, eager to get to the top, to escape the horror from Umbridge's office.

The Astronomy hadn't changed a bit. Then again, it's only been a little less than a year since I was here last. To think that I had spent majority of my nights hiding from the world up here. I walked up to the railing and gripped the cold metal bars as hard as I could. Tears fell from my eyes and onto the bars. I gasped for breath and sunk to the dusty floor. I wasn't sure how I was going to face the school tomorrow, but I was most definitely _not _tossing myself into the Slytherin Common Room tonight.

* * *

**A/N: I hate Umbridge.**

**I just wanted to say that.**


	11. 11: The Hogwarts High Inquisitor

The second detention was just as bad as the first. The skin on the back of my hand became irritated more quickly now, red and inflamed; I thought I was unlikely to keep healing as effectively for long. Soon the cut would remain etched in my hand and Umbridge would, perhaps, be satisfied. I struggled to let no moan of pain escape my lips. From the moment of my arrival and the moment of my dismissal, long after midnight, I said nothing but "Good evening" and "Good night".

The week passed with me wanting to roll over and die more times than I could count. Homework started piling up and I was never able to get around to it. I was too exhausted to do it after detention and there was simply no time during the day to do it then.

Two hours into Friday's detention, the words _I will be loyal_ did not fade away. It remained there, oozing droplets of blood. The pause in the quill's scratching made Professor Umbridge look up.

"Ah," She said softly. She moved around her desk to examine my hand herself. "Good. That ought to serve a reminder to you, shouldn't it? You may leave for tonight."

"Do I still have to come back tomorrow?" I asked, picking up my schoolbag with my right hand.

Professor Umbridge eyed me for a moment before answering. "Yes, but tomorrow night shall be your last night. At least I hope it will be."

I had never considered the possibility that there might've been a teacher in the world that I had hated more than Lockhart, but as I walked back to the Slytherin Common Room I had to admit that I had found a contender. She's evil, I thought relentlessly.

The Slytherin Common Room still had a few stragglers left inside. I sighed and collapsed onto the closest armchair and began to pull out my books for homework.

"D'you want to copy mine?" A tired voice asked me from across the carpet. I glanced up and stiffened at the sight of Jaime Clegane.

"Why would I do that?" I asked sharply. Jaime flinched and looked at my face shyly.

"You never get back to the Common Room in time to do it, and I noticed that you're falling behind. That's not like you. So I thought that'd I would save you the homework."

"You lost the right to be my friend, you know that right?" I snapped at him. Jaime winced at my words, as if they caused him pain. In that moment, I wanted to cause him pain, as payback for all the pain he had caused me.

"I figured, but I don't want you to fail out of Hogwarts because you're too stubborn to take a willing person's homework." Jaime said before standing up and leaving. As he walked away, I noticed that he had left behind all of his paper.

I sighed before reaching over and taking the paper.

* * *

I shook my head angrily at the newspaper before tossing it to little Tyrion Clegane. "Now we know how we ended up with Umbridge! Fudge passed this 'Educational Decree' and forced her on us! And now he's given her the power to inspect other teachers." I shook my head again. "I can't believe this."

"Didn't you serve detention with her last week?" Tyrion asked. The question, although innocent, caused my left hand to itch terribly from under the bandage I had wrapped around it as tightly as I could. I nodded stiffly and pretended to check the weather.

"I can't wait for McGonagall's inspection then," Tyrion said happily. "Umbridge won't know what hit her."

Umbridge wasn't inspecting my first class with Professor Binns for History of Magic. Nor did she show up for Care for Magical Creatures. But when I entered Divination with Ginny, we were shocked to find that Umbridge was perched in a table close to ours.

We nervously took our seats with Luna and, for once, were eager to start the class. Professor Trelawney drifted out from her cave of shawls and glanced frightfully at Umbridge before speaking.

"We shall be continuing our study of prophetic dreams today," She said in a brave attempt at her usual mystic tones, though her voice shook slightly. "Interpret each other's latest nighttime visions with the aid of the _Oracle_."

I opened my textbook, watching Umbridge. She was making notes on her notepad now. After a few minutes she got to her feet and began to pace the room in Trelawney's wake. She was listening to Trelawney's conversations with students and posing questions here and there. I bent my head hurriedly over my book.

"Think of a dream, quick," I hissed at Luna and Ginny. "The old toad is heading our way."

"Now, you've been at this post how long, exactly?" Umbridge asked Trelawney, looking up at her.

Professor Trelawney scowled at her, arms crossed and shoulders hunched as though wishing to protect herself as much as possible from the indignity of the inspection. After a slight pause in which she seemed to decide that the question was not so offensive that she could reasonably ignore it, she said in a deeply resentful tone. "Nearly sixteen years."

"Quite a period," Umbridge said, making a note on her clipboard. "So it was Professor Dumbledore who appointed you?"

"That's right," Professor Trelawney said shortly.

Umbridge made another note.

"And you are great-great-granddaughter of the celebrated Seer Cassandra Trelawney?"

"Yes," Trelawney said, holding her head a little higher. Another note on the clipboard. Umbridge's toadlike smile widened in a nasty way.

"Well, if you could just predict something for me, then?"

She looked up inquiringly, still smiling. Professor Trelawney had stiffened as though unable to believe her ears. "I don't understand you," She said, clutching convulsively at the shawl around her scrawny neck.

"I'd like you to make a prediction for me," Professor Umbridge said clearly. Ginny, Luna, and I were not the only people watching and listening sneakily from behind our books now; most of the class were staring at Professor Trelawney as she drew herself up to her full height, her beads and bangles clinking.

"The Inner Eye does not See upon command!" She said in scandalized tones.

"I see," Professor Umbridge said softly, making yet another note upon her clipboard.

"I—but—but…_wait_!" Trelawney said suddenly, in an attempt at her usual ethereal voice, though the mystical effect was ruined somewhat by the way it was shaking with anger. "I…I think I _do _see something…something that concerns _you_…Why, I sense something…something dark…some grave peril…"

Trelawney pointed a shaking finger at Umbridge, who continued to smile blandly at her, eyebrows raised.

"I am afraid…I am afraid that you are in grave danger!" Trelawney finished dramatically.

There was a pause. Umbridge's eyebrows were still raised.

"Right," She said softly, scribbling on her clipboard once more. "Well, if that's the best you can do…"

She turned away, leaving Professor Trelawney standing rooted to the spot, her chest heaving. I caught Ginny's eye and knew that she was thinking exactly the same as I was: we both knew that Professor Trelawney was an old fraud, but on the other hand, we both hated Umbridge so much that we felt very much on Trelawney's side—until she swooped down on us a few seconds later demanding about our latest dreams.


	12. 12: Inside The Hog's Head

"There's no use trying to convince him that he's no good at Defense Against the Dark Arts because he is." Hermione was ranting as Ginny and I followed her through the library selves. "He was the only person last year to throw off the Imperius Curse completely, he can produce a Patronus, he can do all sorts of stuff that full-grown wizards can't!"

"We know about Harry's skills in magic, Hermione," I said with a slight roll of my eyes. "You don't need to rant about it." Hermione huffed.

"Well, he's still refusing to teach anyone anything about the Dark Arts. I think if he just saw how many people want to know how to defend themselves, he'll jump on board."

"That's a brilliant theory Hermione, but how many people are really willing to defy Umbridge?" Ginny asked. "She's pretty much got the entire school wired now."

"And how do you plan on having us meet?" I asked. Hermione, for the first time, looked unsure of herself.

"I have no idea! All I know is that during this weekend's Hogsmeade trip, we're going to meet inside the Hog's Head. I already got some people from my year wanting to come."

"Calla and I could get people from our year," Ginny offered slowly. I nodded; the only problem was that I couldn't see how many people were going to go for this.

"Then it's decided," Hermione said haughtily, her normal attitude back. "We'll meet inside the Hog's Head this weekend. Oh, and make sure that you don't—"

"Tell Umbridge," I finished. Hermione grinned with satisfaction and sped walked away. I shrugged at Ginny and we proceeded to search for our normal table.

* * *

Neville, Ginny, Luna, and I all trudged into the Hog's Head. We were quickly followed by a group of Gryffindor boys from Hermione's year and the Patil twins with Cho Chang and two girls named Lavender Brown and Marietta Edgecombe. I sat down at the back corner of the pub where Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting while more and more students filed in. The three girls from the Gryffindor Quidditch team; Colin Creevey and his younger brother Dennis with Cameron Baker, Tyrion Clegane, and (to my surprise) Summerfell; a group of older Hufflepuffs whose names I didn't know; Michael Corner led his two friends Anthony Goldstein and Terry Boot and, unfortunately, sat down beside Ginny and me; one Hufflepuff boy came in by himself and looked especially arrogant; Fred and George led Lee Jordan in, all three of them had bags crammed with Zonko's merchandise; and I scowled as a Hufflepuff girl named Margery Mildenhall walked in right behind them.

"A couple of people?" I hissed at Hermione as everyone struggled to sit down together. She shrugged. She stood up to address the crowd.

"Well—er—hi." Hermione said with her voice slightly higher than usual because of nerves. The group focused its attention on her, thought eyes continued to dart back regularly to Harry. "Well…erm…well, you know why you're here. Erm…well, Harry here had the idea—I mean—I had the idea that it might be good if people who wanted to study Defense Against the Dark Arts—and I mean really study it, not the rubbish that Umbridge is doing with us, because nobody could call that Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Hear, hear," Anthony Goldstein said loudly. A few people huffed with amusement and Hermione looked heartened.

"I thought it'd be good if we, well, took matters into our own hands." Hermione paused, looked sideways at Harry, and went on. "And by that I mean learning how to defend ourselves properly, not just theory but the real spells—"

"You want to pass your Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L too though, I bet?" Michael Corner butted in.

"Of course I do," Hermione said at once. "But I want more than that, I want to be properly trained in Defense because…because…because Lord Voldemort has returned."

The reaction was immediate and predictable. Margery shrieked and slopped butterbeer down herself; Terry Boot gave a kind of involuntary twitch; Padma Patil shuddered; Neville gave an odd yelp that he managed to turn into a cough. All of them, however, looked fixedly, even eagerly, at Harry.

"That's the plan anyway," Hermione said. "If you want to join us, we need to decide how we're going to—"

"Where's your proof that You-Know-Who's back?" The blond Hufflepuff boy asked in a rather aggressive voice.

"Who are you?" Ron asked rather rudely.

"Zacharias Smith," The boy said. "I think we've got the right to know what makes you say You-Know-Who's back."

"Look," Hermione said. "That's not really what this meeting was supposed to be about—"

"It's okay, Hermione," Harry said. He looked Zacharias straight in the face. "What makes me say that You-Know-Who's back? I saw him. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you don't believe him, you don't believe me, and I'm not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone."

Smith snorted. "All Dumbledore said last year was that Cedric Diggory got killed by You-Know-Who and that you brought Diggory's body back to Hogwarts. He didn't give us details, he didn't tell us exactly how Diggory got murdered, I think we'd all like to know—"

"If you've come here to hear exactly what it looks like when Voldemort murders someone I can't help you," Harry snapped, sounding angry. "I don't want to talk about Cedric, all right? So if that's what you're here for, you might as well clear out."

There was a long moment of silence before someone interrupted the quiet. "Is it true that you can produce a Patronus?"

There was a murmur of interest around the group at this. "Yeah," Harry said, sounding slightly defensive.

"Blimey, Harry!" Lee said, looking impressed. "I never knew that!"

"And did you kill a basilisk with that sword in Dumbledore's office?" Terry Boot demanded. "That's what one of the portraits on the wall told me when I was in there last year…"

"Er—yeah, I did, yeah," Harry replied awkwardly. One Hufflepuff boy whistled; Cameron and Tyrion exchanged awestruck looks; Lavender Brown said "wow" softly. I smiled slightly at all the positive attention Harry was getting.

"Look," Harry said. Everyone fell silent at once. "I…I don't want to sound like I'm trying to be modest or anything, but…I had a lot of help with all that stuff…"

"Now then," Hermione said. "Does everyone agree that Harry should teach us what he knows?" There was a murmur of general agreement. "Right, the next question how often we do it."

"We need to make sure this doesn't clash with our Quidditch practice." Angelina Johnson said.

"Nor with ours," Cho Chang added.

"Nor ours," Smith said.

"I'm sure we can find a night that suits everyone." Hermione said impatiently. "We'll try and find a time and place. We'll send a message around to everybody when we've got it." She pulled out a piece of paper and a quill from her bag and hesitated, as if steeling herself to say something. "I-I think everybody should write their names down, just so that we know who was here. But I think that we all ought to agree not to shout what we're doing. So if you sign, you're agreeing not to tell Umbridge—or anybody else—what we're up to."

Fred jumped up and was the first to sign his name. I followed behind him and quickly scrawled down my name. George was standing right behind, waiting for his turn. I handed him the quill and gave him a small smile. He returned it.


	13. 13: Educational Decrees

A large sign had been affixed to the Slytherin notice board, so large that it covered everything else on there—the lists of second-hand spellbooks for sale, the regular reminders of school rules from Argus Filch, the Quidditch team training schedule, the offers to barter certain Chocolate Frog cards for others, the dates of the Hogsmeade weekends, and the lost-and-found notices. The new sign was printed in large black letters and there was a highly official-looking seal at the bottom beside a neat and curly signature.

_All Student Organizations, Societies, Teams, Groups, and Clubs are henceforth disbanded. An Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club is hereby defined as a regular meeting of three or more students. Permission to re-form may be sought from the High Inquisitor (Professor Umbridge). No Student Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club may exist without the knowledge and approval of the High Inquisitor. Any student found to have formed, or to belong to, an Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club that has not been approved by the High Inquisitor will be expelled. This is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four._

I read the notice over the heads of some anxious second years.

"Does this mean they're going to shut down the Gobstones Club?" One of them asked his friend. I read the sign through again. My insides were pulsing with rage. This wasn't a coincidence. Umbridge knew.

I walked to the Great Hall by myself and figured out pretty fast that it was that Slytherin wasn't the only House who had gotten a notice. There was a huge crowd of Gryffindors right in front of the wooden doors that consisted of Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Fred, and George. They raised their bent heads at me as I walked in but I quickly jerked my head to keep them away. George got the idea and quickly spoke to the rest of the group.

"What's happening with everyone this morning?" Jaime asked me loudly as I sat down at the Slytherin table. He was surrounded by his normal group of Slytherin friends. Draco Malfoy perked his ears up at the sight of me.

"How should I know?" I snapped back at him. Jaime flinched and ducked his head. I snorted before sitting down for breakfast. No one else messed with me about the meetings, but the knot in my stomach didn't lessen the tightness in which it gripped.

* * *

After classes that day I found Ginny and Neville standing out on the grounds. They had agreed to meet me there to discuss what happened with the newest decree. We sat underneath a beech tree and laid a pile of textbooks and loose paper all around to make it look more convincing that we were doing real work.

"Did Harry tell you what they're planning on doing?" I immediately asked Ginny. She nodded.

"He said we're still doing it, but we've got to be much more careful now." Ginny replied. I snorted and Neville looked up from the Potions homework he was struggling over.

"The meetings haven't even started yet and Umbridge is already on our butts about it. I think that's a new record."

Neville laughed loudly, earning us the attention of a nearby group of Slytherins. I frowned as I recognized Draco, Jaime, Crabbe, Goyle, Cersei, and Pansy. This wouldn't end well.

"Did you hear about Umbridge's newest decree, bastard?" Pansy called over. I grimaced and turned away from them. Ginny and Neville followed my lead. They all took this opportunity to continue.

"Didn't she immediately give the Slytherin Quidditch team permission to continue playing straightaway, Draco?" Cersei asked Draco Malfoy in a snide voice. I thought Draco would rise above his friends for once, but he failed my expectations.

"I went to ask her first thing this morning. Well, it was pretty much automatic, I mean, she knows my father really well, he's always popping in and out of the Ministry…It'll be interesting to see whether Gryffindor are allowed to keep playing won't it?"

"Don't rise," Ginny whispered imploringly as we all struggled to keep our even heads. Or at least I was struggling; Neville had his head bent completely down and was staring at one spot on his paper.

"I mean," Draco was continuing, his voice rising. "If it's a question of influence with the Ministry, I don't think they've got much chance. From what my father says, they've been looking for an excuse to sack Arthur Weasley for years. And as for Potter…my father says it's a matter of time before the Ministry has him carted off to St. Mungo's. Apparently they've got a special ward for people whose brains have been addled by magic…"

Draco made a grotesque face, his mouth sagging open and his eyes rolling. Crabbe and Goyle gave their usual grunts of laughter. Pansy and Cersei both shrieked with glee. Something hard collided with my shoulder, knocking me sideways. A spilt second later I realized that Neville had just charged past me, heading straight for Draco.

"Neville, don't!" Ginny cried.

I leapt forward and seized the back of Neville's sweater vest; Neville was struggling frantically, his fists flailing, trying desperately to get at Draco who looked, for a moment, extremely shocked. I swiped my wand out from my pocket and quickly set up a shield between Neville and Draco, allowing me to release him.

"You never make fun of Mungo's!" Neville yelled his face turned a blotchy red. "If I hear you talk about Mungo's ever again, I swear I'll kill you!"

I turned to Ginny with confusion etched upon my face. She looked the same. What was that about? Neville glared at both of us and then snatched his things and started to stalk away. I cast another look at Ginny before following suit.

"Hey Calla," I turned around to see Draco looking very confused. "Why'd you do that?"

"I didn't do it for you," I spat at the ground near his feet before beginning to trudge back into the castle.

* * *

**A/N: Hello world, I just wanted to chime in and say that this will be my last update for a while. I've got final exams happening for the next three days and it's likely that I won't be able to get ANY work on my stories done in that time. So I've decided to post up what I have done for this story right now so that you're not left in the dark.**

**I just wanted to get that off of my chest. So I'll see y'all next time. Bye!**


	14. 14: Hang the Moon

Ginny and I took our regular seats in the middle of the dungeon where Potions always took place. We pulled out our paper, quills, and our copies of _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_. The class around us was whispering about the upcoming Quidditch game that was happening next weekend. I didn't bother participating; it seemed that _every stinking time _I wandered to the Quidditch pitch, something terrible always ended up happening to me.

When Dad closed the dungeon door with an echoing bang, everybody fell silent immediately. "You will notice that we have a guest with us today." Dad said in his usual low and sneering voice.

He gestured to the dim corner of the dungeon, and I saw Professor Umbridge sitting there, clipboard on her knee. I glanced sideways at Ginny, my eyebrows raised. Meanwhile, the scars on my left hand were prickling painfully.

"We are continuing with our Strengthening Solutions today, you will find your mixtures as you left them last lesson, if correctly made they should have matured well over the weekend—instructions on the board. Carry on." Dad said, waving his wand in the direction of the board, where his instructions scribbled themselves on.

Professor Umbridge spent the first half hour of the lesson making notes in her corner. I kept glancing over my shoulder at her without really thinking, all while my hand kept prickling and it soon started twitching.

"What's up with your hand, Calla?" Ginny asked. I spun towards her and quickly noticed Dad standing nearby. I quickly covered the bandages covering the tiny wounds.

"Nothing," I said hurriedly—far too fast. Ginny instantly knew that something was up and snatched my hand, all while unwrapping the bandages. I watched her suck in her breath as she read the words carved into my flesh. She looked up at me with what looked like tears in her eyes. But that was just impossible; Ginny never cried.

"Did you get these during her detention?" Ginny asked in a hushed voice. I nodded, afraid to speak. Dad was still hovering over poor Colin Creevey, and he was well within earshot. Ginny looked horrified. "Have you told your father?" I shook my head.

"Well, the class seems fairly advanced for their level," Umbridge's girly voice snapped Ginny and I away from our hushed whispers as she approached my Dad. "Though I would question whether it is advisable to teach them a potion like the Strengthening Solution. I think the Ministry would prefer it if that was removed from the syllabus."

Dad turned around slowly and eyed Umbridge carefully.

"Now…how long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?" Umbridge asked, her quill poised over her clipboard.

"Fourteen years," Dad replied. His expression was unfathomable. My eyes on Dad, I added a few drops to my potion; it hissed menacingly and turned from turquoise to orange.

"You applied first for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, I believe?" Umbridge asked Dad.

"Yes," Dad said quietly.

But you were unsuccessful?"

Dad's lip curled. "Obviously,"

I sniggered into my cauldron. Umbridge zoned her pouchy eyes in on me and smiled in a way that made me want to punch her. Dad also turned and opened his mouth to probably tell me to finish my potion, but then his eyes spotted the tiny red scars on my left hand.

I snapped my hand into my robes as fast as I could, but it was already too late. Dad had seen the scars. I have seen Dad really angry only a handful of times, but this time it topped all of them. Dad's face turned the color of sour milk and his black eyes flashed with a savage light. He turned slowly to Professor Umbridge, who had simply looked back down to her clipboard.

"And you have applied regularly for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post ever since you first joined the school, I believe?"

"Yes," Dad said quietly, barely moving his lips. He looked like he was about to do me a favor and punch Umbridge for me.

"Do you have any idea why Dumbledore has constantly refused to appoint you?" Umbridge asked.

"I suggest you ask him," Dad said jerkily.

"Oh, I shall," Umbridge said with a sweet smile, completely oblivious to the rage that was forming inside of Dad. "The Ministry wants a thorough understanding of teachers'—er—backgrounds…"

She turned away, walked over to Cersei Clegane and began questioning her about the lessons. Dad looked around at me and our eyes met for a second. I hastily dropped my gaze to my potion.

"Calla, may I see you in my office?" Dad asked quietly. I nodded without looking at him. On shaky legs, I stood up and followed him into his private office. He was shaking with rage.

"Why didn't you show me this earlier?" Dad asked furiously. I shrugged, knowing that if I actually spoke that I would burst into tears. Dad sneered and began pacing with frustration. "This can't go on like this Calla; you're going to have to learn to trust me sooner or later."

After all the parental support you've given me before, I thought bitterly. What made him think that I'd go to him with my problems? Umbridge was _my _problem, not his. All he needed to worry about was Umbridge's review on his teaching skills. I told him that much and he glared heavily at me before storming out of the classroom.

I remember back when I was around the age of three, maybe four, and Dad and I had been extremely close during the summers when he was home. He had been my only tie to the magical world and I had seen him as my protector as well as a father figure. I remember that very rarely he would tell me that he would hang the moon for me, to protect me from the darkness of night. I think I had been afraid of the dark at the time. But then he started saying it less and less; I couldn't remember the last time he said that.

After what I learned about my parents a few years ago, sometimes I wonder if he had even felt that way.

* * *

**A/N: On a brighter note, I have finished all of my final exams and I am officially a senior! Hip Hip hooray!**

**I just wanted to say that. :)**


	15. 15: Dumbledore's Army

I pointed my wand at the bullfrog that had been hopping hopefully toward the other side of the table. _"Accio!" _It zoomed gloomily back into my hand.

Charms was always one of the bets subjects in which to enjoy a private conversation. There was generally so much movement and activity that the danger of being overheard was very slight. Today, with the room full of croaking bullfrogs and cawing ravens, and with a heavy downpour of rain clattering and pounding against the windows, my whispered conversation with Ginny and Luna and Colin about what Hermione had told us was going by unnoticed.

"Do you think it's true?" Colin was asking. He was having difficulty summoning his bullfrog. My bullfrog looked moodily at his, which always escaped before I would bring it back for Colin. "Do you really think Harry found a place for us all to meet?"

"I think so," Ginny said. "When did Hermione say the first meeting is?"

"This weekend," I replied, allowing my bullfrog to hop a little ways away before summoning it right back. Luna smiled happily as she stroked her raven's neck feathers.

"I can't wait for this weekend then," Luna said in a dreamy voice. "But I sure do hope that the Nargles will stay away from this meeting." I rolled my eyes as Colin finally succeeded in summoning his bullfrog.

* * *

I walked to the correct corridor with Ginny and Luna close behind. There was nothing there but a blank stretch of wall. "What are we supposed to do exactly?" Ginny asked. I sighed and explained for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

"Hermione said to walk past this bit of wall three times, concentrating hard on what we need." I replied. We did so, turning sharply at the window just beyond the blank stretch of wall, then at a man-size vase on its other side. Ginny had screwed up her eyes in concentration. Luna was whispering something under her breath. My fists were clenched as I stared straight ahead.

_We need somewhere to learn to fight…Just give us a place to practice…Somewhere they can't find us…_

"Calla," Ginny said sharply, as we wheeled around after our third walk past. A highly polished door had appeared in the wall. Luna was staring at it, looking slightly wary. I reached out and seized the brass handle. I led the way into a spacious room lit with flickering torches like those that illuminated the dungeons eight floors below.

The walls were lined with wooden bookcases, and instead of chairs there were large silk cushions on the floor. A set of shelves at the far end of the room carried a range of instruments such as Sneakoscopes, Secrecy Sensors, and a large and cracked Foe-Glass; and in front of these instruments stood Harry, Ron, Neville, and Hermione.

"These will be good for when we practice Stunning," Ron said enthusiastically, prodding one of the cushions with his foot.

"Just look at these books!" Hermione said excitedly, running a finger down the spines o the books. "_A Compendium of Common Curses and Their Counter-Actions…The Dark Arts Outsmarted…Self-Defensive Spellwork…_wow…" She looked around at all of us. Ginny, Luna, and I got closer. It looked like the books had convinced Hermione about this place. "Harry, this are wonderful, there's everything we need here!" And without further ado she slid _Jinxes for the Jinxed _from its shelf, sank onto the nearest cushion, and began to read.

There was a gentle knock on the door. I looked around; Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, and Dean Thomas had arrived.

"Whoa," Dean said, staring around, impressed. "What is this place?"

Harry began to explain how Neville had found the Room of Requirement (I had flashed him a wide grin and a thumbs up at hearing this news). But more people had entered by the time he finished and he had to start over. By the time eight o'clock arrived, every cushion was occupied and Harry locked the door in a satisfyingly loud way and everybody fell silent, looking at Harry. Hermione carefully marked her page of _Jinxes for the Jinxed _and set the book aside.

"Well," Harry said, sounding slightly nervous. "This is the place we've found for practices, and you've—er—obviously found it okay—"

"It's fantastic!" Cho Chang said and several people murmured their agreement.

"It's bizarre," Fred said, frowning around it. "We once hid from Filch in here, remember, George? But it was just a broom cupboard then…"

Hermione raised her hand high. Harry hesitated before calling on her. "Well, I've been thinking about the sort of stuff we ought to do first and I think we ought to elect a leader."

"Harry's leader," Cho said at once, looking at Hermione as if she was mad. Harry looked pleasantly surprised and I rolled my eyes at him.

"Yes, but I think we ought to vote on it properly," Hermione said, unperturbed. "It makes it formal and it gives him authority. So—everyone who thinks Harry ought to be leader?" I raised my hand up high along with everyone else in the room, even Zacharias Smith, though he did it very halfheartedly.

"Er—right, thanks," Harry said, his face turning bright red. "And—_what, _Hermione?"

"I also think we ought to have a name," She said brightly, her hand still in the air. "It would promote a feeling of team spirit and unity, don't you think?"

"Can we be the Anti-Umbridge League?" Angelina asked hopefully.

"Or the Ministry of Magic Are Morons Group?" Fred suggested.

I raised my hand hesitantly. It was a thought I had mulled over sometime during Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. I felt my heart flutter nervously in my chest when Harry turned his eyes on me. "I was thinking Dumbledore's Army, or the D.A for short." There was a slight pause after I spoke so I hurried to explain. "That's the Ministry's worst fear, isn't it?"

There was a good deal of appreciative murmuring and laughter at this.

"All in favor of the D.A?" Hermione asked bossily, kneeling up on her cushion to count the overwhelming number of hands in the air. "That's a majority—motion passed!"

She pinned the piece of paper with all the names on it on the wall and wrote DUMBLEDORE'S ARMY across the top in large letters.


	16. 16: Pieces

The Room of Requirement was soon filled with cries of _"Expelliarmus!" _Wands flew in all directions; missed spells hit books on shelves and sent them flying into the air. I was paired up with Neville, simply because no one else wanted to be. So Ginny paired up with Luna and I walked over to Neville and we went to a back corner so that no one else would laugh at him (this was something that he kept suggesting until I finally caved in).

I was too quick for Neville though. Neville's wand kept spinning out of his hand, hit the ceiling in a shower of sparks, and landed with a clatter on top of a bookshelf, from which I had to retrieve it with a summoning Charm.

Harry had thought it was a good idea to start with the basics again. It was a good thing too; there was a lot of shoddy Spellwork going on; many people were not succeeding in disarming their opponents at all, merely causing them to jump backward a few paces as the feeble spell whooshed over them.

_"Expelliarmus!" _Neville said. I, caught unawares, felt my wand fly out of my hand.

"I DID IT!" Neville said gleefully. "I've never done it before—I DID IT!"

"Good one!" I said encouragingly, deciding not to point out that in a real life duel situation Neville's opponent was unlikely to be staring in the opposite direction with their wand held loosely at their side.

"Congrats, Longbottom," Zacharias Smith called over from nearby. Although he was addressing Neville, he was looking directly at me. "It must be extremely hard to disarm the bastard from Azkaban."

"Leave it be, Smith," Harry said firmly from his position nearby. He glanced at me with questioning in his eyes; I jerkily nodded my head and told Neville to pick his wand back up. Later, I couldn't help but notice that something very odd was happening with Smith. Every time he opened his mouth to disarm Anthony Goldstein, his won wand would fly out of his hand, yet Anthony did not seem to be making a sound.

I solved the mystery; Fred and George were several feet from Smith and taking turns pointing their wands at his back.

I caught George's eye and raised my eyebrows. He shrugged and told his twin it was time to get serious. But right then, Harry blew a whistle.

"That wasn't bad," Harry said. "But there's definite room for improvement. How about we meet again next Sunday, after the Quidditch match?" There was a collective muttering of agreement at these words. Then everyone started to walk out of the doors in pairs of threes and fours. "Calla," Harry called. I hurried over to him. "Do you mind taking the younger students to their Common Rooms? Except for Dennis; he's going with Colin."

"Sure thing, Harry," I said. I turned around to find my group of young students; Tyrion Clegane, Cameron Baker, and eleven year old Summerfell. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw George Weasley glancing over in my direction. I gritted my teeth and told the kids to wait there for me. Then I started walking for George.

He met me halfway. "So were you torturing Smith for your own amusement or was there some secret meaning to that?" I asked. George laughed.

"No one's allowed to torment you except for me little Snapey," George said smoothly. I snorted and fake punched his arm. "I'm just kidding; I just didn't like what he was saying."

"Even though it's true?" I asked. George looked at me slyly and grinned.

"It's not true for me," George said simply. He nodded back over my shoulder to my younger students. "As for them, use the magpie tunnels to get them around. I think it would suspicious if you were actually walking around with a group of younger students from other Houses."

"Thank you George," I said, making a move to walk away.  
George laughed loudly.

"Anytime, Snapey!" He said cheerfully. I rolled my eyes and led the way out of the doors with the little ones in tow. Like George had said, there a magpie tapestry just a few yards away. Were these things always here? I quickly dove behind the fabric and tapped the special wall. The doorway was revealed in a matter of seconds.

"What is this place?" Tyrion asked in awe. Summerfell and Cameron gaped around the tunnel with wide eyes.

"This is just one part of the magpie tunnels, kiddos," I said happily. "Now the Ravenclaw Common Room should be that way." I started down a set of stairs with the younger students behind me.

"Did that Gryffindor boy show you these tunnels?" Summerfell asked. She had a nice voice, I decided.

"Yes he did; thanks to him I can sneak down into the kitchens for food," I paused. "Don't go trying that though; not without someone first."

"Aren't you afraid that something will happen though?" Summerfell asked. I stopped and turned to her, slightly confused.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, your daddy is Head of Slytherin and that boy is a Gryffindor. You would either have to be really brave or really stupid to try and pull that over your dad's head."

I mulled that over and smiled. "Then it's a good thing I'm both of those!" Cameron and Tyrion both looked scandalized and Summerfell looked like I had just announced I was planning on suicide.

"But aren't you afraid of what your dad or Umbridge would say?" Tyrion asked with fear in his voice. I thought back to one of Umbridge's earlier decrees about how students from other Houses were not allowed to date.

"I'm terrified of both of them," I admitted. Tyrion and Summerfell exchanged uneasy glances. Cameron had his nose wrinkled up, as if he was really thinking about it.

"Can someone be brave if they're still afraid?" He asked. I offered the small boy a tired smile.

"My dad told me that it's the only time we can be brave."

I dropped both Cameron and Summerfell off at Ravenclaw before making the descent back down to the Slytherin Common Room. We both entered the Common Room and separated into our appropriate dormitories. I went to sleep that night happier than I had been in a long time.


	17. 17: Not My House

I felt as though I was carrying some kind of talisman inside of my chest over the following week, a glowing secret that supported me through Umbridge's classes and ven made it possible for me to smile blandly as I looked into her horrible and bulging eyes. I was resisting under her nose along with the rest of the D.A, doing the very thing that she and her Ministry most feared. And when I was supposed to be reading Wilbert Slinkhard's book during her lessons I dwelled instead on satisfying memories of our moments of our most recent meetings. Like how Neville managed to successfully disarm me while I was actually trying; how Colin Creevey has mastered the Impediment Jinx after three meetings' hard effort; how Parvati Patil had produced such a good Reductor Curse that she had reduced the table carrying all the Sneakoscopes to dust.

Hermione had devised a very clever method of communicating the time and date of the next meeting to all the members in case we needed to change it at short notice, because it would look suspicious if people from different Houses were seen crossing the Great Hall to talk to each other too often. She gave each member a fake Galleon.

"You see the numerals around the edge of the coins?" Hermione explained, holding up one for examination at the end of the latest meeting. The coin gleamed fat and yellow in the light from the torches. "On real Galleons that's just a serial number referring to the goblin who cast the coin. On these fake coins, though, the numbers will change to reflect the time and date of the next meeting. The coins will grow hot when the date changes, so if you're carrying them in a pocket you'll be able to feel them. We take one each, and when Harry sets the date of the next meeting he'll change the numbers on his coin, and then they'll all change to mimic his."

In the meantime, the Quidditch match was closing in, Gryffindor versus Slytherin. The fact that the Quidditch Cup had not been held for so long added considerably to the interest and excitement surrounding the forthcoming game.

The morning of the game, I marched down to the Quidditch pitch early with Ginny. She was dressed warmly in her Gryffindor colors and I was in my Slytherin colors. I had finally decided to toss my worries about the Quidditch pitch aside and enjoy the game. It was just a game; I wasn't going to freak out about it just because of a bad history there.

I soon got an unpleasant feeling, however, when other Slytherins began to file into the stadium. They were all wearing badges in the shape of golden crowns. Cersei Clegane tossed me one with an evil grin on her face. Ginny and I both leaned in to read it.

"'Weasley is our king,'" Ginny read out loud. She gave me a worried glance.

"Well that can't be good," I said quietly. The rest of the stadium filled up quickly and Hermione managed to find her way to us. She saw the badge in my hand and raised her eyebrows. I retaliated by casting the stupid thing on fire.

The two teams finally stepped onto the field. I could see Harry leading the way with his team captain, Angelina Johnson. The other two Chasers, Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet, were right beside her. I could see Ron standing nervously beside Harry, and then Fred and George standing protectively beside their younger brother. Meanwhile on the Slytherin side I could only really make out Draco Malfoy and Jaime Clegane.

Then I heard Madam Hooch blow the whistle and the game began.

The balls were released and the fourteen players shot upwards. "And it's Johnson, Johnson with the Quaffle, what a player that girl is, I've been saying it for years but she still won't go out with me—"

"JORDAN!" Professor McGonagall yelled at Lee Jordan.

"Just a fun fact, Professor, adds a bit of interest—and she's ducked Clegane, she's passed Montague, she's—ouch—been hit from behind by a Bludger from Crabbe…Montague catches the Quaffle, Montague heading back up the pitch and—nice Bludger there from George Weasley, that's a Bludger to the head for Montague, he drops the Quaffle, caught by Katie Bell of Gryffindor reverse passes to Alicia Spinnet and Spinnet's away—"

Lee's commentary rang through the stadium and I listened as hard as I could through the wind whistling in my ears and the din of the crowd, all yelling and booing and singing.

"—dodges Warrington, avoids a Bludger—close call, Alicia—and the crowd loves this, just listen to them, what's that they're singing?"

And as Lee paused to listen the song rose loud and clear from the sea of green and silver in the Slytherin section of the stands.

_Weasley cannot save a thing, He cannot block a single ring, That's why Slytherins all sing; Weasley is our king._

_Weasley was born in a bin, He always lets the Quaffle in, Weasley will make sure we win; Weasley is our king._

"I don't believe this," I muttered. I remembered to a scene earlier this week when Jaime and Draco had been bent over a sheet of paper and were trying to find a word that rhymed with Quaffle.

"Did you know about this?" Hermione asked me sharply. I shrugged as the singing got even louder.

_Weasley is our king, Weasley is our king, He always lets the Quaffle in, Weasley in our king._

Ron was a lone figure at the far end of the pitch, hovering before the three goal hoops while the massive Chaser called Warrington pelted towards him…

A great swell of song rose from the Slytherin stands.

_Weasley cannot save a thing, He cannot block a single ring. _

The scream of delight came from the Slytherin end; Ron had dived wildly, his arms wide; and the Quaffle had soared between them, straight through Ron's central hoop.

"Slytherin score!" Lee announced over the intercom amid the cheering and booing from the crowds below. "So that's ten-nil to Slytherin—bad luck, Ron…"

The Slytherins sang louder: _WEASLEY WAS BORN INA BIN, HE ALWAYS LETS THE QUAFFLE IN, WEASLEY WILL MAKE SURE WE WIN; WEASLEY IS OUR KING._

Suddenly, Harry went into a dive with Draco right behind him. I spotted a faint glimmer of gold and jumped to my feet. "Get it, Harry!" I yelled. There was a brief tussle it looks like between Harry and Draco, but in the end, Harry ended up catching the Snitch. I cheered along with Hermione and Ginny before we all headed down to the pitch to congratulate them.

We made it down to them in record time; just in time for the Slytherin team to all touch down onto earth.

"Saved Weasley's neck, haven't you?" Draco asked Harry in a loud and obnoxious voice. "I've never seen a worse Keeper…but then he was _born in a bin_…Did you like my lyrics, Potter?"

"Snapey!" I ignored Draco's further case of sour grapes to see George sprinting my way. I laughed as he ran towards me, flapping his arms like a great bird, with his broomstick and Beater's club still in hand.

"Well, you guys won," I said as he got close enough to me. George gave a shout of happiness and crushed me into a spine-crushing hug.

"That we did little Snapey," George said happily, grinning with all of his teeth. "Do you mind running with me down to the kitchens after lights out?" I nodded, unable to speak due to nerves. George smiled wider and threw his arm around my neck.

Only then did I realize that Draco was still talking. "We wanted to write another couple of verses! But we couldn't find rhymes for fat and ugly—we wanted to sing about his mother, see…"

I threw a look at George to make sure he hadn't heard. Draco continued.

"We couldn't fit in _useless loser _either—for his father, you know—"

Fred and George had both realized what Draco was saying. I felt George's arm stiffen from around my neck.

"Leave it," Angelina said immediately to Fred, taking him by the arm. "Leave it, Fred, let him yell, he's just sore he lost, the jumped-up little—"

"But you like the Weasleys don't you, Potter?" Draco asked loudly. I couldn't fail to notice Jaime looking nervous and he was shaking his head repeatedly at me, as if to inform me that he had no part of this. "Spend holidays there and everything, don't you? Can't see how you stand the stink, but I suppose when you've been dragged up by Muggles even the Weasleys' hovel smells okay—"

George started to lean towards them. I quickly placed myself between them and pushed against his chest with my hands. George looked down at me; his eyes were filled with rage.

"Ignore him, George; look at me and ignore what you hear. They just want to get you riled up," I said softly to him, so low that no one except the two of us could hear. George's eyes softened a bit.

Meanwhile it was taking the combined efforts of Angelina, Alicia, and Katie to stop Fred leaping on Draco, who was laughing openly. I glanced around really fast for Madam Hooch, but she was still badgering Crabbe for his illegal Bludger attack on Harry.

"Or perhaps," Draco said, leering as he backed away. "You can remember what _your _mother's house stank like and Weasley's pigsty reminds you of it—"

Suddenly Harry was no longer nearby; I only heard a brief, "Sorry, Snapey," before George flew past me with Harry at his side. I watched in horror as the two of them buried their fists into Draco's stomach.

"George! George, _NO_! Harry, stop!"

I could hear Draco yelling, Harry shouting, George swearing, a whistle blowing, and the bellowing of the crowd around me, but nothing really happened until someone yelled _"IMPEDIMENTA!" _

"What do you think you're doing?" Madam Hooch screamed. Draco was curled up on the ground, whimpering and moaning, his nose bloody from George fist; George was sporting a swollen lip; Fred was still being forcibly restrained by the three Chasers, and Crabbe was cackling in the background. "I've never seen behavior like it—back up to the castle, both of you, and straight to your Head of House's office! Go! Now!"

"I find that very unnecessary, Madam Hooch," A sickly sweet voice said from the edge of the crowd. I turned in dread as Professor Umbridge joined the fiasco. She was wearing that terrible fluffy cardigan again and her black bow had been replaced by a hot pink one. She was smiling evilly at Harry and George. I stepped forward until I was a few feet away, despite the warning looks I got from Ginny and Hermione.

"I feel that these delinquents are in need of something more than simple detentions." Umbridge said sweetly to Professor McGonagall, who had just joined the scene, and Madam Hooch. "Fighting two against one? There's no fair explanation as to why that would even happen."

"I think their punishment is my problem, Dolores," McGonagall said stiffly. "They are in my House."

"Educational Decree Number Twenty-five clearly states—"

"Not another one!" McGonagall said violently.

"Educational Decree Number Twenty-five clearly states that the High Inquisitor has to have the power to strip pupils of privileges, or she—that is to say, I—would have less authority than common teachers! And now you see, don't you, Minerva, how right I was in attempting to stop the Gryffindor team from reforming? _Dreadful _tempers…Anyway, I was reading out of our amendment…_hem, hem_…'The High Inquisitor will henceforth have supreme authority over all punishments, sanctions, and removal of privileges pertaining to the students of Hogwarts.'"

She rolled up the paper she had been reading from and put it back into her handbag, still smiling. "So…I really think I will have to ban these two from playing Quidditch ever again." She looked back to Harry and George and back again.

"Ban us?" Harry asked, his voice suddenly going very dry and scratching sounding. "From playing…ever again?"

"That's not fair!" I said loudly. Umbridge turned her pouchy eyes to me, widening as they did so. George shook his head violently for me to be quiet from where he stood. "Malfoy provoked both of them!"

Professor Umbridge took a step forwards in my direction. "I fail to see why it's your problem, Miss Snape. That's because: it's not your problem, because it's not _your _House." She paused and allowed that to sink in. "I think another week's worth of detention would be fitting for you, Miss Snape. Now run along to your Common Room, before I make it two weeks."


	18. 18: Rain Clouds Come

_I will be loyal. I will be loyal. I will be loyal._

Professor Umbridge was grading some essays while I carved these words into my hand. Blood pooled on top of my hand until finally it started to drip onto the paper. And still I wrote.

I had just finished the front side of the page when Umbridge said I could leave. I left without saying a word. I had just finished my last detention with her and I had just stopped covering up the scars on my hand. So far not many people noticed them, that or they turned a blind eye to them.

Snow had started to cover the grounds. My knee started to act up again, but between the constant pain of my knee and the constant pain in my hand, I had just grown immune to pain in general and was learning to ignore it. I was on my way back from detention with Umbridge when a bright ginger head stopped me.

"George Weasley," I hissed. "What are doing here?" George beckoned me into the empty classroom he was hiding in. I rolled my eyes and obliged. He quickly closed and locked the door and took my wounded hand in his before I could object.

"How long have these been here?" George asked. I told him the truth; I was far too tired to lie to him. George shook his head. "Harry's got some scars like these, only his says 'I will not tell lies',"

"Harry's got some?" I asked. George nodded and released my hand.

"I've got a question for you, Snapey," George said. "What did you expect to gain by facing up to Umbridge?"

I shrugged. "I don't know; I guess I just didn't want to let you both go down in flames without a fight." George smiled widely at me.

"What makes you think we're not going down in flames without a fight? Fred and I have got a plan already hatched for dear old Umbridge." George hesitated before adding, "It involves both of us leaving Hogwarts,"

I stared at him. "You mean you and Fred?" George nodded without meeting my eyes. "Why? I get that Umbridge is horrible but that's no excuse to just bail out on school."

"It's not just Umbridge though, Snapey," George said. "Fred and I weren't even sure that'd we would come to Hogwarts for this year at all. We've got our shop to think about, you know."

I nodded, feeling backstabbed. George took a step towards me. "We're not leaving yet, you know. We're probably not going to leave until around the end of the year. Fred would rather leave tonight, but I'm holding him back."

"For what?" I asked. George raised his eyebrows at me.

"Are you seriously asking me that question?" He asked. I felt incredibly stupid as I caught on to what George was implying. He laughed at the look on my face and hugged me before leading the way out into the corridors again. "Don't worry, Snapey; when it's time, I'll let you know." I nodded and we separated to go to our appropriate Common Rooms.

* * *

December arrived, bringing with it more snow and a positive avalanche of homework. Ginny and I spent most of our free time outside of classes in the library trying to keep up. It became worse when Ginny joined the Quidditch team to replace Harry as Seeker. Angelina wanted as much practice as they could get and Ginny was often trudging into the library soaked to the bone from slush.

The only thing I was really looking forward to these upcoming holidays was the D.A meetings. But they would have to stop during the holidays, as nearly everybody in the D.A would be spending the time with their families. Hermione was going skiing with her parents, something that greatly amused Ron, who had never heard of Muggles strapping narrow strips of wood to their feet to slide down mountains. Ginny, meanwhile, and the rest of her brothers were going to the Burrow. I endured several days of jealousy before Ginny said, in response to me asking how she was getting home, "But you're coming too! Didn't I say? Mom wrote and told me to tell you that she had asked your dad and everything!" My spirits had soared. The thought of Christmas at the Burrow was truly wonderful.

I arrived early with Harry in the Room of Requirement for the last D.A meeting before the holidays and we were very glad we had, because when the lamps burst into light we saw that Harry's house-elf friend named Dobby had taken it upon himself to decorate the place for Christmas. Harry said that he could tell it was Dobby because nobody else would've strung a hundred golden baubles from the ceiling, each showing a picture of Harry's face and bearing the legend HAVE A VERY HARRY CHRISTMAS!

We had only just managed to get the last of them down before the door creaked open and Luna Lovegood entered, looking dreamy as always.

"Hello," She said vaguely, looking around at what remained of the decorations. "These are nice, did you put them up?"

"No," Harry said. "It was Dobby the house-elf."

"Mistletoe," Luna said dreamily, pointing at a large clump of white berries place almost over my head. I jumped out from under it. "Good thinking," Luna said very seriously. "It's often infested with Nargles."

I was saved the necessity of asking what Nargles were by the arrival of Angelina, Katie, and Alicia. All three of them were breathless and looked very cold. They started talking to Harry about Quidditch and Luna wandered off to the books, leaving me alone. I glanced back up at the mistletoe and made sure to put as much distance between it and myself.

When everyone finally entered the room, we got to practicing what we had been going over. I paired up with Neville again and I was pleasantly surprised to see that he had gotten so much better than when we had started. He actually managed to knock me off my feet a few times. After an hour, Harry called an end.

"You're getting really good," He said, beaming around at all of us. "When we get back from the holidays we can start doing some big stuff—maybe even Patronuses."

There was a murmur of excitement. The room began to clear in usual twos and threes and my group of younger students was waiting for me at the door. Fred tossed me a chocolate frog on my way to the door and said, beaming, that he'd see me at the Burrow later. I just laughed and led my second and first years into the magpie tunnel.

* * *

I was woken from my deep and dreamless sleep by Cersei Clegane. She was wearing a dressing robe and looked peeved. I rolled my eyes at her and buried myself back into my bed.

"If you're going to rip my hair out again, please make it fast." I muttered at her. Cersei snorted from her vantage point.

"I'm here for that," She said snootily. "Your dad is in the Common Room looking for you." I bolted from my sleepy daze. Why was Dad here? He never came down to the Common Room unless it was for an emergency. I quickly dressed and ran out, all while Cersei glared at me, as if it was my fault for Dad sending her after me.

Dad was pacing in the Common Room. When I joined him, he quickly started to usher me out of the room.

"An accident had occurred to Mr. Weasley and the headmaster wants you, the Weasley children, and Potter to go to his office, as all of you are staying at the Burrow these holidays." Dad said in a hurry. I didn't answer and followed him all the way to Dumbledore's office.

Though it was well past midnight, there were voices coming from inside the room, a positive babble of them. It sounded as though Dumbledore was entertaining a dozen people. When I entered I saw that Harry, Ron, Ginny, Fred, and George were already in there. Ginny ran to me and collapsed there. I awkwardly wrapped my arms around her and we stood beside the door.

"Arthur Weasley has been injured in the course of his work for the Order of the Phoenix," Dumbledore said firmly as we all settled down. The Weasley children all looked scared and shell-shocked. "He has been taken to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. I am sending you back to Sirius's house, which is much more convenient for the hospital than the Burrow. You will meet your mother there."

I thought back to witnessing Mrs. Weasley reacting to her boggart. She always sees us dead, was her boggart about to become a reality tonight?

"How're we getting there?" Fred asked, looking shaken. "Floo powder?"

"Floo powder is not safe at the moment, the Network is being watched." Dumbledore said. "You will be taking a Portkey." He indicated an old kettle lying innocently on his desk. "We are just waiting for Phineas Nigellus to report back…I wish to be sure that the coast is clear before sending you—"

There was a flash of flame in the very middle of the office, leaving behind a single golden feather that floated gently to the floor.

"It is Fawkes's warning," Dumbledore said, catching the feather as it fell. "She must know you're out of your beds…Minerva, Severus, go and head her off—tell her any story—"

Professor McGonagall and Dad were gone in a flash.

"He says he'll be delighted," A bored voice said behind Dumbledore; the wizard called Phineas had reappeared in front of his Slytherin banner. "My great-great-grandson has always had an odd taste in houseguests…"

"Come here then," Dumbledore said to all of us. "And quickly, before anyone else joins us…" We gathered around him. "You have all used Portkey before?" We all nodded, each reaching out to touch some part of the blackened kettle. "Good. On the count of three, then…one…two…"

I felt a powerful jerk around my naval, the ground vanished beneath my feet, my hand was glued to the kettle; I was banging into the others as we all sped forward in a swirl of colors and a rush of wind, the kettle pulling us onward and then—

My feet hit the ground so hard that my knees buckled and the kettle crashed to the floor.


	19. 19: St Mungo's

It was a long and restless night. No had sent any word of Mr. Weasley's health and Fred and George had wanted to barge into St. Mungo's and demand to see their dad. Sirius had forced these thoughts down and distracted everyone by bringing butterbeer from the kitchen and having us all sit there and wait. We were probably an hour into our vigil when Sirius asked why I was there.

I told my story of Cersei waking me up acting as though I had woken her up. Ginny had laughed and asked if she had called me bastard while doing so. George stiffened and Sirius looked concerned.

"Why would she call you that?" Sirius asked. I shrugged.

"The main definition for bastard is a child born outside of marriage," I said in a tired voice. "So, by all definition, I'm a bastard."

Sirius laughed. "That's the attitude I like!" George gave him a smoldering look. "I learned a long time ago that if you let them see that their words can cut you, you'll never be free of their mockery. If they want to give you a name, take it, make it your own. Then they can't hurt you with it anymore."

Hours later, Fred fell into a doze, his head sagging sideways onto his shoulder. Ginny was curled up in her chair like a cat, but her eyes were still open; I could see them reflecting the firelight. Ron was sitting with his head in his hands, whether awake or asleep it was impossible to tell. I would trade a glance with Harry and Sirius every so often; intruders upon the family grief, waiting…waiting…

And then, at ten past five in the morning, the kitchen door swung open and Mrs. Weasley entered the kitchen. She was extremely pale, but when they all turned to look at her, Fred, Ron, and Harry half-rising from their chairs, she gave a wan smile.

"He's going to be all right," She said, her voice weak with tiredness. "He's sleeping. We can all go and see him later. Bill's sitting with him now; he's going to take the morning off work."

Fred fell back in his chair with his hands over his face. George and Ginny got up, walked swiftly over to their mother, and hugged her. Ron gave a shaky laugh and drowned the rest of his butterbeer in one.

"Breakfast!" Sirius said loudly and joyfully, jumping to his feet. "Where's that accursed elf? Kreacher! KREACHER!"

Kreacher did not answer the summons.

"Oh forget it then," Sirius muttered, counting the people in front of him. "So it's breakfast for—let's see—seven…Bacon and eggs, I think, and some tea, and toast—"

I hurried to the stove to help, Harry on my heels. We didn't want to intrude upon the Weasleys' happiness. Mrs. Weasley, however, soon threw Sirius out of the way out of gratitude and both Sirius and Harry disappeared to talk. Ginny came over and joined me with frying the bacon and George started to help by setting the table.

* * *

Everyone spent the rest of the morning sleeping. Ginny and I crawled into the room that we had shared during the summer and we quickly fell into deep sleeps. When we woke up, our trunks had arrived from Hogwarts. Mrs. Weasley had us dress as Muggles for the trip to St. Mungo's. We were greeted by Tonks and Mad-Eye, both of whom were sent to escort us all to the hospital.

Tonks and Mad-Eye led the way into the hospital and we ended up in what seemed to be a crowded reception area where rows of witches and wizards sat upon rickety wooden chairs, some looking perfectly healthy, other sporting gruesome disfigurements such as elephant trunks or extra hands sticking out of their chests.

Witches and wizards in lime-green robes were walking up and down the rows, asking questions and making notes on clipboards like Umbridge's. I noticed the emblem embroidered on their chests; a wand and bone, crossed.

"Are they doctors?" Harry asked Ron.

"Doctors?" Ron asked, looking startled. "Those Muggle nutters who cut people up? Nah, they're Healers."

"Over here!" Mrs. Weasley called from over the renewed clanging of the warlock in the corner, and we followed her to the queue in front of a plump blonde witch seated at a desk. The wall behind her was covered in notices and posters saying things like _A Clean Cauldron Keeps Potions from Becoming Poisons _and _Antidotes Are Anti-Don'ts Unless Approved by a Qualified Healer._

"Hello," Mrs. Weasley said to the blonde witch. "My husband, Arthur Weasley, was supposed to be moved to a different ward this morning, could you tell us-?"

"Arthur Weasley?" The witch asked, running her finger down a long list in front of her. "Yes, first floor, second door on the right, Dai Llewellyn ward."

"Thank you," Mrs. Weasley said. "Come on, you lot."

We followed her through double doors and along a narrow corridor beyond, which was lined with portraits of famous Healers, and lit by crystal bubbles full of candles that floated up on the ceiling, looking like giant soapsuds. More witches and wizards in lime-green robes walked in and out of doors we passed; a foul-smelling yellow gas wafted into the passageway as we passed one door, and every now and then we heard distant wailing. We climbed a flight of stairs and entered the "Creature-Induced Injuries" corridor, where the second door on the right bore the words "DANGEROUS" DAI LLEWELLYN WARD: SERIOUS BITES.

"We'll wait outside, Molly," Tonks said. "Arthur won't want too many visitors at once…It ought to be just the family first."

I waited out in the hall with Harry, Tonks, and Mad-Eye for a few minutes before Ron came back out saying that he'd like to see us too. I glanced nervously at Harry before entering the ward.

The ward was small and rather dingy as the only window was narrow and set high in the wall facing the door. Most of the light came from more shining crystal bubbles clustered in the middle of the ceiling. The walls were of paneled oak and there was a portrait of a rather vicious-looking wizard on the wall, captioned URQUHART RACKHARROW, 1612—1697, INVENTOR OF THE ENTRAIL-EXPELLING CURSE.

There were only three patients. Mr. Weasley was occupying the bed at the far end of the ward beside the tiny window. I was pleased and relieved to see that he was propped up on several pillows.

"Hello!" He called. "Fancy seeing you two here!" Then a pretty woman in a lime-green robe walked into the room with a tray of food in her hands. She looked up at me and Harry and offered us both a great, wide smile.

"Is this more of your family, Arthur?" She asked Mr. Weasley as she delivered the tray of food to another patient hidden behind a curtain.

"No, Lucy," Mr. Weasley said happily. "Just some friends of my children. Mine are only the redheads." The woman shook both of our hands along with some of the other Weasley children. "Everyone, this is Lucy Castamere, she's the Healer in charge of this ward."

"It's a pleasure to meet all of you," Lucy said softly. She tucked a strand of pale golden hair behind her ear and she excused herself to finish her Healer duties. I watched her leave. Harry prodded me in the side and shrugged.

I shook my head. "I don't know, but the name Castamere, its familiar. I've heard it before somewhere. I just don't know where."


	20. 20: Christmas on the Closed Ward

Sirius's delight at having the house full again was infectious. He was no longer the sullen host of the summer; now he seemed more determined that everyone enjoy themselves as much, if not more, then we would have done at Hogwarts, and he worked tirelessly in the run-up to Christmas Day, cleaning and decorating with our help, so that by the time we all went to bed on Christmas Eve the house was barely recognizable. The tarnished chandeliers were no longer hung with cobwebs but with garlands of holly and gold and silver streamers; magical snow glittered in heaps over our heads; a great Christmas tree, obtained by Mundungus and decorated with live fairies, blocked Sirius's family tree from view; and even the stuffed elf heads on the walls wore Father Christmas hats and beards.

I awoke Christmas morning to find a stack of presents at the foot of my bed and Ginny already halfway through her own.

"Good haul this year," She informed me through a cloud of paper. "Thanks for the broomstick caring kit by the way; I should need it for the next few matches."

I sorted through my presents and found a homework planner with Hermione's handwriting on it. It resembled a diary and it said things like _"Do it today or later you'll pay!"_ every time I opened a page.

Fred and George had given me the usual mountain of chocolate frogs and Ron had sent me a large box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Ginny had given me a miniature version of a broomstick that zoomed around the bedroom. And Mrs. Weasley had given me a new sweater and a case of mice pies. I had just taken a bite out of one when a loud crack sounded and Fred and George Apparated at the foot of my bed.

"Merry Christmas," George said. "Don't go downstairs for a bit."

"Why not?" Ginny asked.

"Mom's crying again," Fred said heavily. "Percy sent back his Christmas jumper."

"Without a note," George added. "Hasn't asked how Dad is or visited him or anything…"

"We tried to comfort her," Fred said, moving around the bed to swipe one of my chocolate frogs. "Told her that Percy's nothing more than a humongous pile of rat droppings—"

"—didn't work," George said, helping himself to another of my chocolate frogs. I started to collect them to safety. "So Lupin took over. Best I let him cheer her up before breakfast, I reckon."

Hermione's homework planner chimed in happily, _"If you've dotted the i's and crossed the t's then you may do whatever you please!"_

The boys left and Ginny and I got dressed. I made sure to wear my sweater Mrs. Weasley had worked on. We could hear various inhabitants of the house calling "Merry Christmas" to each other. Hermione walked by and thanked me for the Christmas present. She had traveled here a few nights ago and had appeared on the doorstep with Med-Eye. She had left her vacation with her parents' right when she heard of Mr. Weasley accident.

Once we had had our Christmas lunch, the Weasleys and Harry, Hermione, and I planned on visiting Mr. Weasley again, escorted Mad-Eye and Lupin. The journey to St. Mungo's was quite quick, as there was very little traffic on the roads. A small trickle of witches and wizards were creeping furtively up the otherwise deserted street to visit the hospital. We all got out of the car we had used to get there and we all strolled casually toward the doors, then, one by one, stepped through the glass.

The reception area looked pleasantly festive. The crystal orbs that illuminated St. Mungo's had been turned to red and gold so that they became gigantic, glowing Christmas baubles; holly hung around every doorway, and shining white Christmas trees covered in magical snow and icicles glittered in every corner, each topped with a gleaming gold star. It was less crowded than the last time we had been there, although halfway across the room I found myself shunted aside a witch with a walnut jammed up her left nostril.

We found Mr. Weasley propped up in bed with the remains of his turkey dinner on a tray in his lap and a rather sheepish expression on his face. I saw Lucy Castamere hovering over the patient behind the screen. She waved politely and smiled kindly at us all. I returned the favor.

"Everything all right, Arthur?" Mrs. Weasley asked after we all greeted him and handed him our presents.

"Fine, fine," Mr. Weasley said, a little too heartily. He raised his voice a tad. "Healer Castamere, can you come over her for a moment, please?" Healer Castamere nodded and walked gracefully over to us all.

"Why?" Mrs. Weasley asked suspiciously. Then she noticed his bandages. "Arthur, you've had your bandages changed. Why have you changed your bandages a day early? They told me you wouldn't need them done until tomorrow."

"What?" Mr. Weasley asked, looking rather frightened and pulling the bed covers higher up his chest. He glanced pleadingly at Healer Castamere, but she smiled at him in a way that said that he was on his own. He deflated after realizing he won't get any help with his wife from his Healer. "Now don't get upset, Molly, but Augustus Pye had an idea…He's the Trainee Healer, you know, lovely young chap an very interested in…um…complementary medicine…I mean, some of these old Muggle remedies…well, they're called stiches, Molly, and they work really well on—on Muggle wounds…"

Mrs. Weasley then went off on Mr. Weasley and Healer Castamere both. Lupin strolled away from the bed and over to a patient who was there for werewolf bites and who didn't have any visitors and was looking rather wistfully at the crowd around Mr. Weasley's bed. Bill muttered something about getting himself a cup of tea and Fred and George leapt up to accompany him, grinning.

"It sounds as though you've been trying to sew your skin back together." Mrs. Weasley said with a snort of mirthless laughter.

"I think I'd like a cup of tea, too," I said quickly, jumping to my feet. Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny quickly followed me. As we closed the door behind us we heard Mrs. Weasley shriek, "WHAT DO YOU MEAN THAT'S THE GENERAL IDEA?"

"Typical Dad," Ginny said, shaking her head as we set off up the corridor. "Stitches…I ask you…"

We quickly got lost as to where the tea room was. We ended up on the spell damage floor. A man was peering out at us with his nose pressed against the glass. He had wavy blond hair, bright blue eyes, and a broad vacant smile that revealed dazzling white teeth.

"Blimey!" Ron said, staring at the man.

"Oh my goodness," Hermione said suddenly, sounding breathless. "Professor Lockhart!"

"You've got to be kidding me," I grumbled at the sight of my least favorite teacher. An image of Umbridge flashed through my mind. Well, Lockhart was my second least favorite.

Our ex-Defense Against the Dark Arts professor pushed open the doors and moved toward us, wearing a long lilac dressing gown.

"Well hello there!" He said. "I expect you'd like my autograph, would you?"

"He hasn't changed much," Harry muttered to Ginny, who grinned. Lockhart shoved a few spare photos of himself in our arms and signed them for us as well. A Healer came out and brought him back in after we had five minutes alone with him. She started to pull him away into a different room, explaining about their long-term ward. We followed them inside.

I looked around; this ward bore unmistakable signs of being a permanent home to its residents. They had many more personal effects around their beds than in Mr. Weasley's ward; the wall around Gilderoy's headboard, for instance, was papered with pictures of himself, all beaming toothily and waving at us new arrivals.

A sallow-skinned, mournful-looking wizard lay in the bed opposite, staring at the ceiling; he was mumbling to himself and seemed quite unaware of anything around him. Two beds along was a woman whose entire head was covered in fur; I remembered something similar happening to Hermione during my first year, although fortunately the damage hadn't been permanent.

"Look, Broderick, you've been sent a potted plant and a lovely hippogriff calendar, they'll brighten up things, won't they?" The Healer asked the mumbling man, bustling over to him to set an ugly potted plant on his bedside table. "And—oh, Mrs. Longbottom, are you leaving already?"

My head spun right around. There had been curtains at the far end of the ward, to give privacy to the visitors and patient. Now they had been drawn back from the two beds at the end of the ward and two visitors were walking back down the aisle between the beds: a formidable-looking old witch wearing a long green dress, a moth-eaten fox fur, and a pointed hat decorated with what was unmistakably a stuffed vulture and, trailing behind her looking thoroughly depressed—_Neville._

With a sudden rush of understanding, I realized who the people in the end beds must be. I cast around wildly for some means of distracting the others so that Neville could leave the ward unnoticed and unquestioned, but Ron had looked up at the sound of the name "Longbottom" too, and before I could stop him, Ron had called, "Neville!"

Neville jumped and cowered as though a bullet had narrowly missed him.

"It's us, Neville!" Ron said brightly. "Have you seen? Lockhart's here! Who've you been visiting?"

"Friends of yours, Neville, dear?" Neville's grandmother asked graciously, bearing down upon us all.

Neville looked as though he would rather be anywhere else in the world but here. A dull purple flush was creeping up his plump face and he was not making eye contact with any of us.

"Ah yes," His grandmother said slowly, looking at Harry. "I know who you are, of course. Neville speaks most highly of you." She turned to Ron and Ginny. "And you two are clearly Weasleys." She lastly turned to Hermione and me. "And you two are definitely Hermione Granger and Calla Snape. Neville has told me about you both."

Hermione and I glanced at each other. Neville wasn't looking at any of us, but stared at his own feet, the color deepening in his face.

"He's a good boy," His grandmother continued. "But he hasn't any of his father's talent, I'm afraid to say…" And she jerked her head in the direction of the two beds at the end of the ward, so that the stuffed vulture on her hat trembled violently.

"What?" Ron asked, looking amazed. I wanted to stamp on his foot. "Is that your _dad _down the end, Neville?"

"What's this?" Mrs. Longbottom asked sharply. "Haven't you told your friends about your parents, Neville?" Neville took a deep breath, looked up at the ceiling, and shook his head. I could not remember feeling sorrier for someone, but I couldn't think of any way of helping Neville out of his situation.

"Well, it's nothing to be ashamed of!" Mrs. Longbottom said angrily. "You should be _proud_, Neville, _proud_! They didn't give up their health and their sanity so their only son would be ashamed of them, you know!"

"I'm not ashamed," Neville said very faintly, still looking anywhere but us. Ron was now standing up on tiptoe to look over at the inhabitants of the two beds.

"Well, you've got a funny way of showing it!" Mrs. Longbottom said. "My son and his wife," She said, turning haughtily to me, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. "They were tortured into insanity by You-Know-Who's followers."

I had already known from hearing Dad talk about it with some of his adult friends, but I had been really young and didn't think much of it and didn't know what had happened to them. I hadn't even known their names. To hear it all over again, knowing full well who was affected by it, sent a series of severe chills down my spine.

Hermione and Ginny both clapped their hands over their mouths. Ron stopped craning his neck to catch a glimpse of Neville's parents and looked mortified. Harry looked like he had already known.

"They were Aurors, you know, and very well respected within the Wizarding community." Mrs. Longbottom went on. "Highly gifted the pair of them. I—yes, Alice dear, what is it?"

Neville's mother had come edging down the ward in her nightgown. I had only seen a photo of Alice Longbottom once, when Dad and his friend had been speaking about it. She no longer had the plump, happy-looking face I had seen years ago. Her face was thin and worn now, her eyes seemed overlarge, and her hair, which had turned white, was wispy and dead-looking. She did not seem to want to speak, or perhaps she was not able to, but she made timid motions toward Neville, holding something in her hand.

"Again?" Mrs. Longbottom asked, sounding slightly weary. "Very well, Alice dear, very well—Neville, take it, whatever it is…"

But Neville had already stretched out his hand, into which his mother dropped an empty Droobles Blowing Gum wrapper.

"Very nice, dear," Mrs. Longbottom said in a falsely cheery voice, patting her on the shoulder. But Neville quietly said, "Thanks Mom,"

His mother tottered away, back up the ward, humming to herself. Neville looked around at us, his expression defiant, as if daring us to laugh, but I didn't think I'd ever found anything less funny in my life.

"Well, we'd better get back," Mrs. Longbottom sighed, drawing on long green gloves. "Very nice to have met you all. Neville, put that wrapper in the bin, she must have given you enough of them to paper you bedroom by now…"

But as they left, I was sure I saw Neville slip the wrapper into his pocket.


	21. 21: Mass Breakout

We returned to Hogwarts two days later. I spent most of the train ride back catching up on homework I had been pushing off. Hermione had pursed her lips at my procrastination skills and had left to petrol the train corridors with the rest of the prefects. She dragged Ron away with her, much to Harry's disappointment.

Speaking of Harry, he was now taking Occulumency lessons with Dad. He had visited during the break to inform Harry of this and to say hello to me. He also delivered his Christmas present while he was there; a new book about defensive spells. At first I had panicked about the D.A; but there was no possible way Dad could know about that, so I just smiled and hugged him while giving him thanks.

We had been back for less than a week when it came out in the papers. Rowling had flown to me that morning with the _Daily Prophet _clamped tightly in her beak. I had to tug it away from her and afterwards she helped herself to bits of my mountain of banana nut muffins. Tyrion, who had replaced his cousin's trait of sitting across from me, leaned forward and asked, "What's that all about?"

I spread the newspaper out in front of both of us to read. A dozen black-and-white photographs filled up the front page; ten showing wizards; two witches. Some of the people in the photographs were silently jeering; others were tapping their fingers on the frame of their pictures, looking insolent. Each picture was captioned with a name and the crime for which the person had been sent to Azkaban.

_Antonin Dolohov_, read the legend beneath a wizard with a long, pale, twisted face who was sneering up at me, _convicted of the brutal murders of Gideon and Fabian Prewett._

_Augustus Rookwood_, said the caption beneath a pockmarked man with greasy hair who was leaning against the edge of his picture, looking bored, _convicted of leaking Ministry of Magic secrets with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named._

But my eyes were drawn to the picture of one of the witches. Her face had leapt out at me the moment I had seen the page; because it had looked slightly like my own. You could clearly tell that she had long auburn hair that looked like it had once been well-cared for. She stared up at me with bright hazel eyes; eyes that seemed so green they were almost classified as yellow. She could've once been very beautiful, but it looked like Azkaban had marred her of any beauty she had once possessed.

_Margaret Tully, convicted of torture and murder of several Muggle families._

I leaned back in my seat and pushed the newspaper away from me as far as it would go. My mother…she was out of Azkaban…

I had grown up knowing that my mother was a bad person. Dad hadn't wanted any kids at Hogwarts giving me grief so he had told me early on about her and what she did and why she was locked up. I had only seen her picture once when they had done a newspaper article about the Death Eater who had given birth to a child inside of Azkaban. I remember reading about what people thought about the child; people had said that born under the influence of dementors, that child would probably be insane and cold. I rubbed my face on my hands for a few minutes. Tyrion was silent in front of me.

I looked back down at the newspaper with contempt. Another name captured my attention. I edged it closer, refusing to even glance at my mother's face. I narrowed my eyes at the name, then at the face, then back again.

_Robert Castamere, charged for assaulting several Ministry of Magic employees after downfall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named._

That's where Lucy Castamere's name had sounded so familiar. She was his wife. I remember that a few years after Voldemort's downfall, a Ministry employee proven Death Eater had attacked some Ministry employees. That reporter Rita Skeeter had bombarded Castamere's wife, a young Trainee Healer named Lucy.

Robert Castamere had thin, mouse-brown hair that looked to be thinning after the time he spent in Azkaban. His face was weathered and tired-looking, but still held some savage light inside of it. He had stormy-gray eyes that glared up at me from his picture. I thought back to Lucy Castamere, who was so pale and golden and so _pure_-looking.

"Isn't there a student here named Longbottom?" Tyrion asked. I looked up sharply at him.

"What did you say?"

"Right here," He said pointing to the newspaper. "They mention two people named Longbottom." I looked back down to the newspaper to see the person who had the Longbottom names right beside her.

She had long, dark hair that looked unkempt and straggly in the picture. She glared up at me through heavily lidded eyes, and arrogant, disdainful smile playing around her thin mouth. Like Sirius, she retained vestiges of great good looks, but something—Azkaban—had taken most of her beauty.

_Bellatrix Lestrange, convicted of the torture and permanent incapacitation of Frank and Alice Longbottom._

My eyes shot up to the Gryffindor table where I quickly spotted Neville reading the _Daily Prophet _as well. I saw him throw down the paper before storming out of the Great Hall. I sighed and stared at the paper blankly. Neville's parents' torturer was free; Mr. Weasley's Healer's husband was free; my own _mother _was free…

I got up slowly, knowing I wouldn't be able to hold another bite of food down. Tyrion watched me go, carefully folding up the newspaper. Unfortunately, so did a few others. Pansy Parkinson jumped up and followed me out of the Great Hall.

"So, Snape how is it to know that your mommy's back out again?" Pansy sneered at me. I ignored her and continued walking. She hurried up so that she was walking backwards right in front of me. "I mean, surely you'll find a way to see her, right? You never got to really know, as far as anyone knows. Surely you'll want some mother-daughter time together won't you?"

I lost it. Without thinking, I threw the punch at Pansy that came out of nowhere. I hit her right in the jaw and the blow was powerful enough to knock her to the ground. She glared up at me from the floor, silent, and daring me to continue a beating so that she could call a teacher to us.

But I just stepped over her and continued walking without knowing where I was going.


	22. 22: Sacked

A new sign appeared on the House notice boards the morning after news of the Azkaban breakout.

_Teachers are hereby banned from giving students any information that is not strictly related to the subjects they are paid to teach. The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-Six. Signed: Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor_

This latest decree had been the subject of a great number of jokes among the students. Lee Jordan had pointed out to Umbridge that by the terms of the new rule she was not allowed to tell Fred and George off for playing Exploding Snap in the back of the class.

"Exploding Snap's got nothing to do with Defense Against the Dark Arts, professor! That's not information relating to your subject!"

When I next saw Lee, the back of his hand was bleeding rather badly. I recommended essence of murtlap to help with the healing.

I had thought that the breakout from Azkaban might have humbled Umbridge a little, that she might have been abashed at the catastrophe that had occurred right under her beloved Fudge's nose. It seemed, however, to have only intensified her furious desire to bring every aspect of life at Hogwarts under her personal control. She seemed determined at the very least to achieve a sacking before long and the only question was whether it would be Professor Trelawney or Hagrid who went first.

Every single Divination and Care of Magical Creatures lesson was now conducted in the presence of Umbridge and her clipboard. She lurked by the fire in the heavily perfumed tower room, interrupting Professor Trelawney's increasingly hysterical talks with difficult questions about Ornithomancy and Heptomology, insisting that she predict students' answers before we gave them and demanding that she demonstrate her skill at the crystal ball, the tea leaves, and the stones in turn.

Hagrid was jumpy and oddly distracted in lessons, losing thread of what he was saying while talking to the class, answering questions wrongly and glancing anxiously at Umbridge all the time.

It seemed that Umbridge was deliberately trying to make everyone's time at Hogwarts a nightmare. I took the only revenge in the only way I had: doubling my efforts in the D.A.

Everyone, even Zacharias Smith, had been spurred to work harder than ever by the news that twelve more Death Eaters were now on the loose, but nobody was this improvement more pronounced than in Neville. The news of his parents' attacker's escape had wrought a strange and even slightly alarming change in him. He had not once mentioned his meeting with me, Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny on the closed ward in St. Mungo's and taking his lead, we kept quiet as well. Nor had he said anything on the subject of Bellatrix Lestrange and her escape; in fact, he barely spoke during D.A meetings anymore, but worked relentlessly with me on every new jinx and countercurse Harry threw at us. We were both soon becoming the fastest and fiercest duelers in the D.A, simply because Neville refused to take a break and would lash out at me several times. I had required so many burns and scratches from his attacks that my arms were more red-colored than flesh-tones now. The only person who was advancing more than us was Hermione.

True, I was starting to leave the D.A meeting sore and exhausted, but while dueling, I felt more alive than ever. Neville and I had even come up with special attacks that combined two jinxes at once.

"Left," I called. Neville weaved to his left as two doses of a Reductor curse spiraled towards him. "Right, other right, up, left, forward left, down, farther down," And on it went. We took turns sparring this way and were both exhausted at the end of meetings, but we were both feeling quite accomplished.

* * *

With so much to worry about and so much to do—startling amounts of homework, secret D.A meetings, and regular classes—January seemed to be passing alarmingly fast. Before I knew it, February had arrived, bringing with it wetter and warmer weather.

I was discussing the next D.A meeting with Tyrion, Cameron, and Summerfell (she had become a constant presence whenever I found Tyrion and Cameron together) when a series of screams came from the Entrance Hall. We all looked at one another fast before charging out to see what was happening. They grew louder as we entered the Hall. When we got there we saw that other students had formed a tight circle, some of them looking shocked, even frightened. Professor McGonagall was directly opposite of me on the other side of the Hall; she looked as though what she was watching made her feel faintly sick.

Professor Trelawney was standing in the middle of the Entrance Hall with her wand in one hand and an empty sherry bottle in the other, looking utterly mad. Her hair was sticking up on end, her glasses were lopsided so that one eye was magnified more than the other; her innumerable shawls and scarves were trailing haphazardly from her shoulders, giving the impression that she was falling apart at the seams. Two large trunks lay on the floor beside her, one of them upside down; it looked very much like it had been thrown down the stairs after her. Trelawney was staring, apparently terrified, at something I could not see but seemed to be standing at the foot of the stairs.

"No!" She shrieked. "NO! This cannot be happening…It cannot…I refuse to let it!"

"You didn't realize this was coming?" A high, girlish voice asked, sounding callously amused, and I, moving slightly to my right, saw that Professor Trelawney's terrifying vision was nothing other than Professor Umbridge. "Incapable though you are of predicting even tomorrow's weather, you must surely must have realized that your pitiful performance during my inspections, and lack of any improvements, would make it inevitable you would be sacked?"

"You c-can't!" Trelawney howled, tears streaming down her face from behind her enormous lenses. "You can't s-sack me! I've b-been here sixteen years! Hogwarts is my home!"

"It _was _your home," Umbridge said, and I was revolted to see the enjoyment stretching her toadlike face as she watched Trelawney sink, sobbing uncontrollably, onto one of her trunks. "Kindly remove yourself from this hall. You are embarrassing us."

But she stood and watched, with an expression of gloating enjoyment, as Professor Trelawney shuddered and moaned, rocking back and forth on her trunk in paroxysms of grief. I heard a sob to my left and turned to see Lavender and Parvati both crying silently, their arms around each other. Then I heard footsteps. Professor McGonagall had broken away from the crowd, marched straight up to Trelawney and was patting her firmly on the back while withdrawing a large handkerchief from within her robes.

"There, there, Sybill…Calm down…Blow your nose on this. It's not as bad as you think, now…You are not going to have to leave Hogwarts…"

"Oh, really, Professor McGonagall?" Umbridge interjected in a deadly voice, taking a few steps forward. "And your authority for that statement is…?"

"That would be mine," A deep voice said.

The oak front doors had swung open. Students beside them scuttled out of the way as Dumbledore appeared in the entrance. What he had been doing out in the grounds I could not imagine, but there was something impressive about the sight of him framed in the door. Leaving the doors wide open behind him, he strode forward through the circle of onlookers toward the place where Trelawney sat, tearstained and trembling, upon her trunk, Professor McGonagall alongside her.

"Yours, Professor Dumbledore?" Umbridge said with a strange and unpleasant little laugh. "I'm afraid you do not understand the position. Under the terms of Educational Decree Number Twenty-Three, the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts has the power to inspect, place upon probation, and sack any teacher she—that is to say, I—feel is not performing up to the standard required by the Ministry of Magic."

To my surprise, Dumbledore continued to smile. He looked at Trelawney, who was still sobbing and choking on her trunk. "You are quite right, Professor Umbridge. As High Inquisitor you have every right to dismiss my teachers. You do not, however, have the authority to send them away from the castle. I am afraid that the power to do that still resides with the headmaster, and it is my wish that Professor Trelawney continue to live at Hogwarts."

Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick, with Dumbledore's permission, started to help Trelawney and her trunks past Umbridge and up the stairs. Umbridge looked like she wanted nothing more than to jinx Dumbledore and our headmaster sent everyone back to class and back to whatever it was they were doing.

* * *

**A/N: Because inspiration is flooding my brain and I can work on nothing else but this, I've decided to post this chapter up as well. I have just finished writing my fourth chapter of the day (this is what happened when you re-read the book and re-watch the movie you're writing about). So enjoy this chapter too and I'll post again tomorrow morning (or afternoon, depending on how late I wake up).**


	23. 23: The Sneak

As a dull March blurred into a squally April, my life seemed to become one long string of worries and problems again.

Umbridge had continued attending all Care of Magical Creatures lessons. The teachers had started lecturing the fourth years about the importance of next year, our O.W.L.s year. My dreams had become a hunting ground for the escapees from Azkaban. If it had not been for D.A meetings, I thought I would have been extremely unhappy. I sometimes felt that I was living for the hours I spent in the Room of Requirement. I sometimes wondered how Umbridge would react when everyone got amazing scores on our exams.

We had finally started working on Patronuses, which everybody had been very keen to practice, though Harry kept reminding us that producing a Patronus was very difficult when trying to produce one in front of a dementor.

"Oh, don't be such a killjoy," I told him brightly, watching my own Patronus soar overhead with Ginny's galloping horse right beside it.

At first, I had found it extremely difficult to form my Patronus. I had practiced it a few times with Dad before, but that had been years ago. Harry's instructions were to take our happiest memories and use them to create the Patronus. I could not fully grasp a completely happy memory until I looked across the room to where Fred and George were gazing at their own identical Protronuses. After thinking about the times George and I had in the Astronomy Tower, conjuring my Patronus had been easy.

And so now I watched my magpie fly across the room with Ginny's Patronus close behind it.

"They're so pretty!" Cho Chang said with wonder. Harry, who had been standing nearby, blinked calmly at her.

"They're not supposed to be pretty, they're supposed to protect you," Harry told everyone patiently. "What we really need is a boggart or something; that's how I learned, I had to conjure a Patronus while the boggart was pretending to be a dementor—"

"But that would be really scary!" Lavender said, who was shooting puffs of silver vapor out of the end of her wand. "And I still—can't do it!"

Neville was having trouble too. His face was screwed up in concentration, but only feeble wisps of silver smoke issued from his wand tip.

"You've got to think of something happy," I reminded him gently.

"I'm trying," Neville said miserably, who was trying so hard his round face was actually shining with sweat.

"Harry, I think I'm doing it!" Seamus Finnigan yelled, who had been brought along to his first ever D.A meeting by Dean Thomas. "Look—ah—it's gone…But it was definitely something hairy!"

Hermione's Patronus, a shining silver otter, was gamboling around her. "They _are _sort of nice, aren't they?"

The door of the Room of Requirement opened and closed again; I looked around to see who had entered, but there did not seem to be anybody there. It was a few moments before I realized that the people close to the door had fallen silent. I widened my eyes as a small and quivering house-elf broke through the crowd and straight up to Harry. Harry looked down at the trembling creature.

"Dobby? What's wrong?"

The elf's eyes were wide with terror and he was shaking. The other members of the D.A closest to Harry had fallen silent now; everybody in the room was watching Dobby. The few Patronuses people had managed to conjure faded away into silver mist, leaving the room looking much darker than before.

"Harry Potter, sir…" The elf squeaked, trembling from head to foot. "Harry Potter, sir…Dobby has come to warn you…but the other house-elves have been warned not to tell…"

He ran headfirst at the wall: Harry made to seize him, but Dobby merely bounced off the stone, cushioned by his eight hats. Hermione and a few other girls let out squeaks of fear and sympathy.

"What's happened, Dobby?" Harry asked, grabbing the elf's tiny arm and holding him away from anything with which he might seek to hurt himself.

"Harry Potter…she…she"

Dobby hit himself hard on the nose with his free fist: Harry seized that too.

"Who's 'she', Dobby? Umbridge?"

Dobby nodded, and then tried to bang his head of Harry's knees; Harry kept him at bay.

"What about her Dobby? Dobby—she hasn't found out about this—about us—about the D.A?"

There was a moment of silence in which Harry read the expression on the elf's face. I felt my insides go ice cold.

"Is she coming?" Harry asked quietly.

Dobby let out a howl. "Yes, Harry Potter, yes!"

Harry straightened up and looked around at the motionless wall of people, terrified, gazing at the thrashing elf.

"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?" Harry bellowed. "RUN!"

We all pelted toward the door at once, forming a scrum at the door, then people burst through. I couldn't find the second and first years I was in charge of. I heard people sprinting down the hall and prayed that somehow Tyrion, Cameron, and Summerfell had found a way out. I also hoped that people wouldn't try to make it to their dormitories. It was only ten to nine, if they could just take refuge in the library or the Owlery, which were both nearer—

"Snapey, come one!" George's voice came to me from the center of the knot of people trying to get out. I hurled myself towards the direction where his voice had been. I quickly ran into George and he quickly grabbed my hand and pulled me to where the magpie tunnels were hid. We ducked behind the tapestry and entered the dark tunnels breathless yet exhilarated from the prospect of almost getting caught by Umbridge.

"Does anyone else know about the tunnels?" I asked. George thought about it for a moment.

"There's us, those little kids you bring through here, and Fred, but I don't think he knows that they open up here. Do your kids know the password?"

I shook my head. George sighed. "Then I guess that we'll be the only knows coming through here." I sunk to the ground and buried my face in my hands. George and I were safe from Umbridge's rage, but there were still people out there; we could hear them. George just took the spot right next to me and we sat down together until it got quiet out there.


	24. 24: Please, Stay

_Dolores Jane Umbridge (High Inquisitor) has replaced Albus Dumbledore as Head of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-Eight. Signed: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister of Magic_

The notices had gone up all over the school overnight, but they did not explain how every single person within the castle seemed to know that Dumbledore had overcome two Aurors, the High Inquisitor, the Minister of Magic, and his Junior Assistant to escape. No matter where I went within the castle next day, the sole topic of conversation was Dumbledore's flight, and though some of the details might have gone awry in the retelling, it was surprising how accurate the rest of the information was. Everybody seemed aware, for instance, that Harry and that girl Marietta Edgecombe were the only students to have witnessed the scene in Dumbledore's office.

It had been Marietta who had snitched on Dumbledore's Army. She was now in the hospital wing nursing some horrible acne on her face that was apparently Hermione's doing. The slip of paper that we had all signed in the beginning had been jinxed so that if anyone on that list ever double-crossed the D.A, the word _sneak _would be written across their face in hexed pimples that would never go away. I gave Hermione a high five after I heard about that dirty trick.

I was standing front of the four great hourglasses that represented House points with Ginny and Neville when we watched it happen. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw had been neck and neck in the lead that morning. Even as we watched, stones flew upward, reducing the amounts in the lower bulbs. In fact, the only glass that seemed unchanged was the emerald-filled one for Slytherin.

"Noticed, have you?" Fred said from behind us.

He and George had just come down the marble staircase and joined Ginny, Neville, and I in front of the hourglasses. Suddenly, more stones began to fly upwards from the Hufflepuff hourglass.

"Montague tried to get us during break," George said.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "What do you mean, 'tried'?"

"He never managed to get all the words out," Fred said. "Due to the fact that we forced him headfirst into that Vanishing Cabinet on the first floor."

Neville gaped at him.

"But you'll get into terrible trouble!"

"Not until Montague reappears, and that could take weeks, I dunno where we sent him." Fred said coolly. "Anyway…we've decided we don't care about getting into trouble anymore."

"Have you ever?" Ginny asked her brothers.

"'Course we have," George said. "Never been expelled, have we?"

"We've always known where to draw the line," Fred said.

"We might even put a toe across it occasionally," George said.

"But we've always stopped short of causing real mayhem," Fred said.

"But now?" I asked tentatively.

"Well now—" George said.

"—what with Dumbledore gone—"

"—we reckon a bit of mayhem—"

"—is exactly what our dear new Head deserves," Fred finished.

They disappeared almost instantly and I got a sick feeling in my gut. George had told me that he'd tell me when he and Fred planned on leaving. That feeling remained with me all through the day until the next day's breakfast, when Rowling flew to me with a letter clamped in her beak. I tore it open and recognized George's scrawl.

_Meet me in the Astronomy Tower tonight at ten._

I felt a heavy stone in my stomach for the rest of the day, knowing what George was planning on telling me. I could barely concentrate until I climbed the spiral stairs in the magpie tunnel to the Astronomy Tower.

George was already there when I got there. He looked tired and slightly guilty. I walked up to him and waited for him to start explaining. He sighed.

"Tomorrow," George said shortly. I blinked at him and frowned, feeling my stomach sink lower.

"So soon? Why this soon? Surely Hogwarts isn't that bad for you two anymore."

George lowered his head. "It's now or never, Snapey. Fred's been pushing it since the beginning of the school year. I think with being banned from Quidditch, then the D.A, and now finally Dumbledore gone, he's ready to lose it. Only I have a reason left to stay and you know Fred, he won't leave without me."

I felt as if my heart was tearing itself in two. "You realize that I won't be able to move on? If you leave, I'm going to go out of my freaking mind. You being here is the only reason I'm still sane." My voice was starting to crack. George stepped forward and hugged me gently.

He lifted my face to make me look in his eyes. "Calla, I _know _that you'll be able to do it. You've always been strong; you just don't realize it yet. I want you to stay here and continue Hogwarts; finish it for both of us.

I grinned slightly and looked up at him. "You know that's the first time you've ever called me by my real name?" George straightened up and scrunched his face together, as if he was thinking about it really hard.

"Good Lord, you're right," He smiled down at me. "You're going to be just fine, Snapey. Make sure that you're in the Entrance Hall tomorrow at noon. Now come on; let's head back to our common Rooms before someone finds us." He started to make a move to leave.

"George," I said. "Please,"

George looked up at me sadly. "I'm sorry, Snapey; I'm so sorry." Those words told me that his mind was made up and that I was powerless to change his mind.

* * *

I positioned myself in the Entrance Hall at noon, just like George had told me to do. I had hardly slept last night and it was showing. Ginny was badgering me about it, but I ignored her and waited for whatever George had up his sleeve.

It wasn't that long a wait. One floor up, it sounded like a bomb went off. The very floor seemed to shake. Ginny and I slipped sideways, having to clutch one another for balance. Ginny looked at me.

"What was-?"

Another boom came from upstairs. Neville ran downstairs to us and Ginny quickly caught him. "Neville, what's happening?"

"Somebody set off this enormous crate of fireworks!" Neville said, wonder making his eyes grow round.

"I've got an idea as to whom," I said quietly, shaking my head. We risked the walk up the marble steps and pandemonium reigned.

Dragons comprised entirely of green-and-gold sparks were soaring up and down the corridors, emitting loud fiery blasts and bangs as they went. Shocking-pink Catherine wheels five feet in diameter were whizzing lethally through the air like so many flying saucers. Rockets with long tails of brilliant silver stars were ricocheting off the walls. Sparklers were writing swearwords in midair of their own accord. Fire-crackers were exploding like mines everywhere I looked, and instead of burning themselves out, fading from sight, or fizzling to a halt, these pyrotechnical miracles seemed to be gaining in energy and momentum the longer I watched.

A Catherine wheel whirled to where Umbridge and Filch were standing with a sinister _wheeeeeee_. Both adults yelled with fright and ducked and it soared straight out of the window behind them and out onto the grounds. Meanwhile, several of the dragons and a large purple bat that was smoking ominously took advantage of the open door at the end of the corridor to escape toward the second floor and beyond. Filch darted into a spare broom cupboard and grabbed a broom before trying to swat them down.

Laughing, I made my way back down to the Entrance Hall, where several students and fireworks were starting to gather. Everyone was immensely enjoying the fireworks, judging by the sight of Summerfell dancing with one of the dragon sparklers. One group of fireworks tried to dive bomb Draco, but he ducked out of the way just in time. I stood on the marble staircase a series of miniscule fireworks went off and sizzled gently in front of my face.

There was a loud zoom up ahead and I looked up just in time to see Fred and George flying on their brooms and flying around the Entrance Hall. They had more fireworks in their hands. I clapped with several other students while they made a victory lap. I saw Fred flying close by to me and he froze his broom to catch my eyes. Suddenly, a wicked grin spread across his face and he whistled as loud as he could before pointing at me. I saw him fly away just to be replaced by George.

George laughed loudly before going into a spiraling dive right towards me. I took a few steps back just in case he hit me. Instead, he landed a few yards in front of me. He was grinning evilly and right when I was going to ask what he was doing, George closed the short distance between us and crashed his mouth onto mine.

It was different from the other kisses we had shared in the Astronomy Tower last year. Those had always been soft and heartfelt; this one was frantic, as if he knew we wouldn't be able to do this for a long time. I realized that that was true.

George broke away and had the expression on his face like he had just been hit in the head with a Bludger. "You have no idea how long I've waited to do that."

"I've got a feeling," I said back. George laughed loudly and mounted his broom again before taking off. A few nearby people were staring knowingly at me, but I really didn't care. I felt the faint red blush on my face, but for once, it didn't matter to me.

There was the sound of another bomb going off and a swarm of students arrived, covered in Stinksap. I quickly spotted Jaime and Cersei in this crowd and openly laughed at their expense. Cersei glared at me with rage gleaming in her eyes. Jaime watched me for a moment before snorting with mirth as well. Cersei looked at both of us like we were mad.

"You two," Umbridge screamed at the top of her lungs. I held in my laughter as I observed our new Head. Her mouse-brown hair was smoking and her face was covered in soot. "You're about to find out what happens to trouble-makers in my school!"

Fred and George had paused to listen to Umbridge. But after she was finished they started laughing.

"You know what," Fred said, loud enough for the whole body of student sin the Entrance Hall to hear. "I don't think we are." He turned to his twin. "George, I think we've outgrown full-time education."

"Yeah, I've been feeling that way myself," George said lightly with a wink in my direction.

"Time to test our talents in the real world, do you reckon?"

"Definitely,"

And before Umbridge could say a word, they wheeled their brooms around and dive bombed the doors. Someone had the brains to open them wide for the twins to escape. Everyone charged out of the doors to applaud the Weasleys departure and watch them off. I went outside as well.

Fred and George had tossed the last of their fireworks into the air and the bunch of fireworks exploded and formed a giant W that spread across the blue sky. Fred and George wheeled their brooms around and zipped off towards the mountains. People continued clapping and cheering until Umbridge herded everyone back to classes. But I watched, I watched until they became two black dots in the sky, and finally until they disappeared altogether into their glorious sunset.


	25. 25: Captured and Cornered

I started to make my way into the Entrance Hall when something caught my eye. Hermione was kneeling beside Harry, who looked like he had just fallen on the ground. I hurried towards them.

"What happened?" I asked once I got within talking distance of them. Hermione looked up at me but Harry quickly dove into an explanation of a vision he had just seen after dragging the two of us into an empty classroom.

I felt the hairs on the back of my neck go straight up. Voldemort had Sirius; torturing him inside the Ministry of Magic? My logical mind was telling me that this was impossible, but another side of my mind was thinking about Sirius, who had compared me to Dad every time I did something opposite of him. He made a good friend, Sirius. And according to Harry, he was about to be killed.

"But why," Hermione pestered. "Why on earth would Voldemort want to use _Sirius _to get the weapon, or whatever the thing is?"

"Calla," Harry said, ignoring Hermione's question. "Could you go get Ron? He should be somewhere around here." I nodded quickly and charged off, looking for the familiar redhead.

I found Ron and dragged him back to Harry and Hermione. I had quickly explained the situation to Ron and he was now full of opinions. "Sirius's brother was a Death Eater, wasn't he? Maybe he told Sirius the secret of how to get the weapon!"

"Yeah—that's why Dumbledore's so keen to keep Sirius locked up all the time!" Harry said.

"Look, I'm sorry, but none of you are making sense, and we've got no proof for any of this, no proof that Voldemort and Sirius are even there…" Hermione cried.

The classroom door opened. We all whipped around. Ginny walked in, looking curious, followed by Luna, who as usual looked as though she had drifted in accidentally.

"Hi," Ginny said uncertainly. "We recognized Harry's voice—what are you yelling about?"

"Never you mind," Harry said roughly. Ginny raised her eyebrows.

"There's no need to take that tone with me," She said coolly. "I was only wondering whether I could help."

"Well, you can't," Harry said shortly.

"You're being rather rude, you know," Luna said serenely.

Harry swore and turned away. I narrowed my eyes at him and looked back to Ginny and Luna.

"Harry, I think they _can _help," I said. Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at me. "Listen, we need to establish whether Sirius really has left headquarters—"

"I've told you, I saw—"

Hermione stepped forward. "Harry, Calla's right! Let's just check that Sirius isn't at home before we go charging off to London—if we find out he's not there then I swear I won't try and stop you, I'll come, I'll do whatever it takes to try and save him—"

"Sirius is being tortured NOW!" Harry shouted. "We haven't got time to waste—"

"But if this is a trick of V-Voldemort's," I interrupted him. "Harry, we've got to check, don't we?"

"How?" Harry demanded. "How are we going to check?"

"We'll have to use Umbridge's fire and see if we can contact him," Hermione said, who looked positively terrified at the thought. "We'll draw Umbridge away again, but we'll need lookouts, and that's where we can use Ginny and Luna."

Though clearly struggling to understand what was going on, Ginny said immediately, "Yeah, we'll do it," Luna said, "When you say 'Sirius', are you talking about Stubby Boardman?"

Nobody answered her.

"Okay," Harry said aggressively towards Hermione and me. "Okay, if you can think of a way of doing this quickly, I'm with you, otherwise I'm going to the Department of Mysteries right now—"

"Leave it to me," I said quickly. I headed for the door and called over my shoulder. "I'll meet you all at Umbridge's office."

I marched quickly down the corridors, thinking fast. How was I going to get Umbridge away from her office? I got to the second floor where I stopped and started to think to myself, "What would Fred and George do?"

The answer came to me quickly enough. I bolted in the opposite direction I had been heading and raced to the Transfiguration department, miles away from Umbridge's office. I found Peeves while I was there. He was trying to unscrew a large chandelier. I whistled and got his attention.

"It unscrews the other way," I said. Peeves hesitated but started to do as I suggested. I swallowed before continuing. "Peeves, I've got a proposition for you."

Peeves glided down to where I was standing and poked his fat chin with his fat finger. "And what would that be, Snape's kid?"

"How about you trash this entire department?" I asked. "You want to make Umbridge's life hell right?" Peeves nodded happily, his double chin jiggling. "Then how about you do that now? With what the Weasley's pulled earlier, Umbridge will be up to her eyeballs in messes. If you gave her some more messes, she'd be having a _terrible _first day of being Head, now wouldn't she?"

Peeves laughed a completely bawdy laugh and soared high into the air. "You run a hard bargain, Miss Snape. I'll do it!" And then I had to duck out of the department because Peeves started bouncing against the walls.

I ran all the way back to the Entrance Hall, where Umbridge would be working on cleaning up Fred and George's mess. When I got there, a few stray fireworks were still sizzling and it looked like several had escaped onto the grounds. Umbridge was standing in the middle of all of it, looking wrecked. If I had been stupid, I would've felt sorry for her.

"Professor Umbridge!" I shouted down to her while running to meet her. Umbridge turned and looked at me as if her day had just gotten ten times worse.

"What may I help you with, Miss Snape?" Umbridge asked, struggling to compose her girly voice.

"Peeves is destroying the Transfiguration department," I said breathlessly. "He was bouncing off of walls and unscrewing the chandelier, it's chaos over there, professor!"

"It's chaos over here, Snape, in case you haven't noticed!" Draco snapped at me from where he had been standing. He was a part of Umbridge's Inquisitional Squad, along with Jaime, Cersei, and Pansy. Umbridge huffed a breath and called over to Filch.

"Filch, you're in charge of this situation!" Umbridge said. Filch bowed down loyally. "Malfoy, Clegane, both of you, come with me to deal with Peeves." I watched them all march off, Jaime and Cersei still covered in Stinksap. After they left, I walked casually to the stairs and, as I turned the corner, I broke into a run towards Umbridge's office.

I got to the hallway outside of Umbridge's office to find Ginny positioned at one end and Luna at the other end. The corridor was deserted.

"Are they all in there?" I asked Ginny breathlessly. Ginny nodded tightly.

"Yeah, they should be in the fireplace right now. Hermione explained on the way here." I noticed that Ginny's voice and face was tight. She was as worried about Sirius just like the rest of us.

I left her and stormed into the room. Hermione and Ron were waiting by the door with their wands ready. Harry had his head poked completely through the fireplace. It was an odd sight; his head was completely missing but his body was still very much here. I contained a short laugh as I got ready at the door along with Ron and Hermione.

We had only been standing there for a few minutes when the door banged open. I was half expecting Ginny or even Luna but instead I was greeted by a wand in my face as Jaime Clegane pointed his wand directly at my nose. He pushed his way into the room with the rest of the Inquisitional Squad and Umbridge. I saw that Ginny and Luna were already taken and…Neville?

Umbridge stormed over to the fireplace and grabbed Harry by the hair and yanked him out of the fire. My arms were pinned behind my back by Jaime and Hermione and Ron were taken as well. Umbridge was fuming from where she held Harry.

"You think," She whispered, bending Harry's neck back farther so that he was looking at the ceiling. "That after two nifflers I was going to let one more foul, scavenging little creature enter my office without my knowledge? I had Stealth Sensoring Spells placed all around my doorway after the last one got in, you foolish boy. Take his wand." She barked that order to the only person left without hands—Draco—and then Umbridge ordered my own wand taken along with Hermione's and Ron's. Jaime wrung the wand out of my fingertips and I could feel him reaching around so that he could put it in his back pocket.

"I want to know why you were all in my office," Umbridge said.

"I was—trying to get my Firebolt!" Harry said, talking about his confiscated broomstick. Umbridge smiled evilly.

"Liar; your Firebolt is under guard in the dungeons, as you know very well, Potter. You had your head in my fire. With whom have you been communicating?"

"No one," Harry said, trying to pull away from her. Umbridge slapped Harry hard across the face. Hermione whimpered. Umbridge looked up at the teenagers who had been caught. Hermione was whimpering from Millicent Bulstrode thick arms; Warrington had Ron locked tightly; Cersei was struggling to keep a hold on Ginny, who was fighting; Astoria's older sister, a large girl named Daphne, was holding Luna, who was staring around the room quite calmly; Crabbe had Neville in a chokehold that was turning Neville's face purple; and Jaime had my arms pinned behind my back. I noticed that he still reeked of Stinksap.

"Well, it looks as though Hogwarts will shortly be a Weasley-free zone, doesn't it?" Umbridge said smugly. I spat at her feet. She turned to me and shook her head with something that looked like disappointment. "Oh Miss Snape, I'm very disappointed in you. Your mother would be too." Pansy and Cersei laughed loudly and I wondered whether I could kick all three of them from this distance.

Umbridge looked back at Harry. "So, Potter, you stationed lookouts around my office and you sent this traitor," She gestured to me. "To tell me about Peeves destroying the Transfiguration department? Clearly, it was very important for you to talk to somebody. Was it Albus Dumbledore?"

"It's none of your business who I talk to," Harry snarled. I had to admire his nerve in this situation. Umbridge's slack face seemed to tighten.

"Very well, Mr. Potter," She said in her most dangerous and falsely sweet voice. "I offered you the chance to tell me freely. You refused. I have no alternative but to force you. Draco—fetch Professor Snape."

Draco threw me a glance before leaving to do as he was told. After he left there was silence in the office except for the fidgeting and scuffling resultant from the Slytherins' effort to keep the others under control. I kept quite still, waiting for Jaime to loosen his grip. But for now, his grip was tight and I was going nowhere. Finally, Draco reentered the office with Dad right behind him.

"You wanted to see me, Headmistress?" Dad asked, looking around at all the pairs of struggling students with an expression of complete indifference. Then he saw me with my arms clenched behind my back and frowned.

"Ah, Professor Snape," Umbridge said, smiling widely and completely ignoring the growing anger on my father's face. "Yes, I would like another bottle of Veritaserum, as quick as you can, please."

"You took my last bottle to interrogate Potter," He said, turning towards her. "Surely you did not use it all? I told you that three drops would be sufficient." I grinned wickedly to myself at Umbridge's stupid mistake. She flushed.

"You can make some more, can't you?" She asked, her voice becoming more sweetly girlish as it always did when she was furious.

"Certainly," Dad said, his lip curling. "It takes a full moon cycle to mature, so I should have it ready for you in around a month."

"A month?" Umbridge squawked, swelling toadishly. "But I need it this evening, Snape! I have just found Potter using my fire to communicate with a person or people unknown!"

"Really?" Dad asked, showing faint interest as he looked from me to Harry. I could tell that he was trying to figure this out without asking questions. "Well, it doesn't surprise me. Potter has never shown much inclination to follow school rules."

"You're on probation!" Umbridge shrieked randomly. Dad looked at her, eyebrows slightly raised. "You are being deliberately unhelpful! I expected better, Lucius Malfoy always speaks most highly of you! Now get out of my office!"

Dad gave her an ironic bow and turned to leave. Harry's eyes showed panic and he opened his mouth to speak.

"He's got Padfoot!" Harry said desperately. "He's got Padfoot at the place where it's hidden!"

Dad had stopped with his hand on Umbridge's door handle.

"Padfoot?" Umbridge asked, looking highly confused. "What is Padfoot? Where what is hidden? What does he mean, Snape?"

Dad looked around at Harry. His face was inscrutable. I couldn't tell whether he had understood or not.

"I have no idea," Dad said finally. He closed the door behind him with a snap, leaving us all in the clutches of Umbridge. Umbridge's chest was heaving with rage and frustration. Suddenly, Hermione let out a wail.

"Harry let's just tell her!" She cried. Umbridge stared at her and I frowned at her. What could Hermione be crying about? "She'll force it out of us anyway, let's just show her…" Millicent looked disgusted.

"Well, well, well," Umbridge said, looking triumphant. "Little Miss Question-All is going to give us some answers! Come on then, girl, come on!"

Ginny was staring at Hermione as if she had never seen her before. Neville, still choking for breath, looked at her too. But I noticed something. Though Hermione was sobbing desperately into her hands, there was no trace of a tear…

"I'm sorry everyone," Hermione said. "But I can't stand it. We wanted to contact Dumbledore and tell him that it's ready…"

"That what's ready?" Umbridge asked. Harry was staring at Hermione with curiosity etched into his face. Hermione then went into a blubbery explanation of how Dumbledore had given us a job to do and to alert him when it was finished. She then offered to take Umbridge to the "weapon".

Umbridge quickly stood Harry up and ordered Millicent to release Hermione. She put Draco in charge and forced Harry and Hermione out of the room and rushed after them. I shifted my feet and felt a distinct release of pressure from my arms…


	26. 26: My Guardian

Jaime must've not realized that he had given away some of the pressure from my arms. I then felt another shift as he reached behind him to pull my wand out of his back pocket. I felt my heart stop as the wand was slipped gently back into my hand.

"On three," Jaime hissed into my ear. One part of me couldn't believe what had just happened. Was Jaime seriously egging me on to fight? Another side was shouting at the first side to shut up and get ready. I gripped my wand eagerly in my hand. "One…two…three…"

Jaime released me and without hesitating I blasted a Stunning Spell at Draco hat was so powerful it knocked him back until he hit the wall. Jaime sent his own spell at Warrington, who was staring at me, too distracted to even see Jaime coming at him. I quickly knocked out Cersei, Pansy and Millicent and Jaime got Crabbe taken care of quickly. Ron, Ginny, Luna, and Neville were staring at the two of us with confusion etched across their faces.

Pansy and Millicent and Jaime got Crabbe taken care of quickly. Ron, Ginny, Luna, and Neville were staring at the two of us with confusion etched across their faces.

"What just happened?" Ron asked. I glanced at Jaime. He turned slightly red and looked down at his feet. I turned to Ron and the others.

"We got a new ally," I said shortly. Ron looked like he was going to ask more questions but Ginny said loudly that they would wait outside for me. Once they were gone I looked at Jaime. "Why'd you do that?"

Jaime turned even redder and shrugged. "Umbridge is a pain. I only joined her stupid squad because Cersei wanted to. My dad wouldn't have approved if I had been offered and hadn't taken it."

"I mean why did you help us?" I asked. Jaime looked me dead in the eye.

"I'm trying to make it up to you. I know I'll probably never be able to, but I'm trying." Jaime said curtly. I widened my eyes as I realized just how guilty Jaime was about the events during the Triwizard Tournament. Right now he looked miserable going through this, and no matter how much I wanted to shut him out and hate him, I found myself forgiving him ever so slightly.

Jaime chose to speak during my silence. "You have to Stun me as well. Umbridge would find it suspicious if I was the only one not Stunned." I nodded in agreement and raised my wand, but I felt like something else had to be said.

"Jaime," I said slowly. He met my eyes and held them. "Thanks," A smile etched out on his face before actually managed to properly Stun him.

* * *

I met the others in the Entrance Hall. Harry and Hermione were just entering the building. I quickly realized that Umbridge wasn't with them. I ran down the marble stairs to find out what was happening.

"How are we planning to get to London?" Ron asked, handing Harry and Hermione their wands back. Harry and Hermione glanced at each other before answering.

"Well, we'll have to fly, won't we?" Luna said in the closest thing to a matter-of-fact voice I had ever heard her use. "Follow me," We all cast each other uneasy looks before following Luna out into the grounds.

The sun had begun to set. Its color had stained the once blue sky a dark and foreboding red. I shivered as I recognized the color of blood. I prayed that wasn't an omen of some sort.

Luna led us to the edge of the woods and turned around proudly. I blinked, looking around for what we were supposed to be looking at. But we were completely alone.

"Yes!" Harry whispered. I watched in confusion as Harry reached out his hand and made a patting motion. What the heck was happening?

"Is it those mad horse things?" Ron asked uncertainly, staring at a point slightly left to where Harry was patting the air. "Those ones you can't see unless you've watched someone snuff it?"

"Yeah," Harry said.

"How many?"

"Just two,"

"Well, we'll need seven," Hermione said, who was looking shaken but determined just the same.

"We can't all go!" Harry said angrily. Neville and Ginny both burst into protests and Harry clapped his hand to his scar. Did it hurt? Then he looked back at all of us. "Okay, fine, it's your choice. But unless we find more thestrals you're not going to be able—"

"More of them will come," Ginny said confidently. "You and Hermione are covered in blood; Hagrid lures them in with raw meat." She looked proud of herself. I gave her a brief thumbs up as Luna said dreamily, "Look, here come some more,"

"All right," Harry said curtly. "Pick one and get on, then."

Harry was the first to climb onto a thestral. To me he just looked like he was floating in midair on some sort of invisible high chair. Luna climbed onto one as well after helping Hermione and Ron find thestrals. Neville had to guide Ginny and I to where two were supposedly were standing. I glanced nervously at Ginny before trusting Neville to help me on top of a thestral.

I was now floating in midair just like everyone else.

"This is not normal," I muttered softly. Ron, who was the closest to me, forced a laugh before going back to looking as scared as I felt. I reached out my hand and, to my shock, I found that I could feel hair right there. I quickly wound my hands into it as Harry suddenly started to rise into the air. My thestral was the next to start to climb into the fading sun.

* * *

I slid off the back of my thestral and I gladly threw myself onto the slab of concrete that was the London sidewalk. "Land, sweet, sweet land." Luna laughed loudly as she watched me from her vantage point on her thestral.

"Never ever again," Ron said as he struggled to get off his thestral. "That was the worst…" Luna jumped down gracefully from her invisible high chair.

"Where do we go from here?" She asked Harry in a politely interested voice, as though this was all a rather interesting day-trip.

"Over here," Harry said. He led the way to a telephone box and opened the door. "Come on!"

Ron and Ginny marched in obediently; Hermione, Neville, Luna, and I squashed ourselves in after them; then Harry forced himself in lastly.

"Whoever's nearest the receiver, dial six two four four two!" Harry said. Ron did it, his arm bent bizarrely to reach the dial. As it whirred back into place a cool female voice sounded from inside the box.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

"Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger," Harry said very quickly. "Ginny Weasley, Calla Snape, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood…We're here to save someone, unless your Ministry can do it first!"

"Thank you," The female voice said. "Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes." Seven badges slid out of the metal chute where returned coins usually appeared. Hermione scooped them up and handed them out mutely to the appropriate people; I glanced briefly at my own before pinning it to my shirt.

_Calla Snape_

_Rescue Mission_

The floor of the telephone box shuddered and the pavement rose up past the glass windows of the telephone box. Blackness closed over our heads, and with a dull grinding noise we sank down into the depths of the Ministry of Magic.


	27. 27: Come to the Slaughter

A chink of soft golden light hit our feet and, widening, rose up our bodies. I bent my knees, peering through the glass to see whether anybody was waiting for us, but it seemed completely empty. The light was dim and I only imagined that was because it was nighttime. There weren't any fires burning under the several mantle pieces that lined down the wide and long hall.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant evening," The woman's voice said coolly. The door to the telephone box burst open; Harry managed to topple out, followed by Neville and Luna. The only sound in the room was the steady rush of water from a fountain at the end of the hall.

"Come on," Harry ordered quietly and the seven of us sprinted off down the hall, Harry in the lead, past the fountain, toward a security desk.

I felt sure that there ought to be a security person there, sure that their absence was an ominous sign, and my feeling of foreboding increased as we passed through the golden gates to the lifts. Once we were all in a lift together, Harry pressed the nearest down button and the lift closed with a bang. The lift began to descend, jangling and rattling. With the amount of noise the lifts were making, I was sure that it would alert every single security person that we were here. But when the cool, female voice said, "Department of Mysteries," and the grilles slid open, we stepped out into a corridor where nothing was moving but the flickering flames of torches.

Harry turned toward a plain black door. "Let's go," He whispered, and he led the way down the corridor. Luna was right behind him, gazing around with her mouth hung slightly open. "Okay listen," Harry said suddenly, stopping again within six feet of the door. "Maybe…maybe a couple of people should stay here as a—as a lookout, and—"

"And how're we going to let you know something's coming?" Ginny asked, her eyebrows raised. "You could be miles away."

"We're coming with you Harry." Neville said.

Harry sighed and turned to face the door and walked forward. It swung open as he marched forward; I swallowed my fear down as we all crossed the threshold.

_"This is it!"_

I gaped at the beautiful, dancing, diamond-sparkling light. As my eyes became more accustomed to the bright glare, the more this place made me nervous. High as a church and full of nothing but towering shelves covered in small, dusty glass orbs. They glimmered dully in the light issuing from more candle brackets set at intervals along the shelves. Their flames were burning blue. The room was very cold.

Harry edged forward and leaned to peer down one of the shadowy aisles between two rows of shelves. I shifted my feet as I realized that I could not hear anything nor see the slightest movement.

"You said it was row ninety-seven," Hermione whispered.

"Yeah," Harry breathed. "Keep your wands out," I quickly removed my wand from my pocket and stepped forward after Harry. We crept forward, staring behind us as we went on down the long shelves, the farther ends of which were in total darkness. Tiny, yellow labels had been stuck beneath each glass orb on the shelf. Some of them had a weird, liquid glow; others were as dull and dark within blown lightbulbs.

We passed row eighty-four…eighty-five…I was listening hard for the slightest sound of movement, but Sirius might be gagged now, or else unconscious…or he might already be dead.

"Ninety-seven!" Hermione whispered.

We stood grouped around the end of the row, gazing down the alley beside it. There was nobody else here.

"He's right down at the end," Harry said. "You can't see properly from here…" And he led us forward, between the towering rows of glass balls, some of which glowed softly as we passed… "He should be near here," Harry whispered. "Anywhere here…really close…"

"Harry?" Hermione said tentatively. My mouth got really dry really fast as a stab of pity hit my gut for Harry. We had reached the end of the row and emerged into more dim candlelight. There was nobody here at all. All was echoing, dusty silence.

"He might be…" Harry whispered hoarsely, peering down the alley next door. "Or maybe…" He hurried to look down the one beyond that.

"Harry?" Hermione said again.

"What?" Harry snarled.

"I…I don't think Sirius is here."

Nobody spoke. Harry didn't look at any of us. He ran up the space at the end of the rows, staring down them. Then he turned back and ran back again, past us, and past the endless empty alleys. Finally he had to admit it to himself; Sirius wasn't here and there was no sign of a struggle.

"Harry," Neville said cautiously. I turned to look at him; he was standing slightly in one of the aisles and was staring at one of the dusty orbs. "This has your name on it."

"My name?" Harry asked blankly. He stepped back to us. We all peered at the dusty orb on the shelf; sure enough, Harry's name was printed on a yellow slip of paper right below an orb. We all stared at it mutely.

"What is it?" Ron asked, sounding unnerved. "What's it doing down here?"

"Harry, I don't think you should touch it." Hermione said as he stretched out his hand for it.

"Why not?" Harry asked. "It's something to do with me, isn't it?"

"Don't Harry," Neville said suddenly. I looked at him. Neville's round face was shining with sweat. He looked as though he could not take much more suspense.

"It's got my name on it," Harry said. And then he closed his fingers around it. I half expected something dramatic to happen, something exciting that might make this long and dangerous journey worthwhile after all. Harry lifted the glass ball from the shelf and stared at it.

Nothing happened whatsoever. We all moved in closer around Harry, gazing at the orb as he brushed it of the clogging dust.

And then, from right behind us, a drawling voice said, "Very good, Potter. Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me."

Black shapes were emerging out of thin air all around us, blocking our way left and right; eyes glinted through slits in hoods, a dozen lit up wand tips were pointing directly at our hearts. Ginny gave a gasp of horror.

"To me, Potter," The drawling voice of Lucius Malfoy repeated as he held out his hand, palm out. My insides plummeted sickeningly. We were trapped and outnumbered two to one.

"To me," Lucius said yet again.

"Where's Sirius?" Harry asked. Several of the Death Eaters laughed. A harsh female voice from the shadows to my left said triumphantly, "The Dark Lord always knows!"

"Always," Lucius echoed softly. "Now give me the prophecy, Potter."

"I want to know where Sirius is!"

_"I want to know where Sirius is!" _The witch to my left mimicked cruelly. She and her fellow had closed in so that they were mere feet away from us. I noticed one of the Death Eaters to my left was getting extremely close. I met the eyes from behind the slits and they stared back, with something that looked close to wonder.

"You've got him," Harry insisted. "He's here. I know he is."

_"The little baby woke up fwightened and fort what it dweamed was twoo," The_ woman said in a horrible, mock-baby voice. I felt Neville shift from beside me. The one Death Eater kept staring at me and I felt something cold stir in my stomach.

"It's time you learned the difference life and dreams, Potter," Lucius said. "Now give me the prophecy, or we start using wands."

"Go on, then," Harry said, raising his own wand to chest height. As he did so, we all raised our own wands. I pointed mine directly at the heart of the Death Eater who was staring me down. The Death Eater looked from my face to my wand, and as they did so, they lowered their own wand ever so slightly…

"Hand over the prophecy and no one need get hurt," Lucius said coolly. Now it was Harry's turn to laugh.

"Right," He said. "I give you this—prophecy, is it? And you'll just let us skip off home, will you?" The words were hardly out of his mouth when the female Death Eater shrieked, _"Accio Proph—"_

Harry blocked her spell quickly. The witch raised her wand to curse him when Lucius called it off, yelling how they needed Harry alive and how they only needed the glass orb. The woman stepped forward, away from her fellows, and pulled off her hood. Azkaban had hollowed Bellatrix Lestrange's face, making it gaunt and skull-like, but it was alive with feverish, fanatical glow.

"You need more persuasion?" Bellatrix asked, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "Very well—take the smallest one," She ordered the Death Eater closest to me. "Let him watch while we torture the little girl. I'll do it."

Neville quickly grabbed me by the shoulders to attempt to hide me from the Death Eater. But there was no need. The Death Eater turned to Bellatrix and said, in a clear voice, "I won't harm that one,"

Bellatrix sneered at the Death Eater—who judging by the sound of their voice was another woman. "I have a lot of respect for you Margaret, so I'm just going to ask why not _that one_."

"I will not harm my own flesh and blood." The Death Eater said as she removed her hood. Thin and gray-streaked auburn hair fell from the hood and the woman turned to look at me. I spotted my own facial features in her face. But while my eyes were dark black, hers was pale green, almost yellow. I felt my skin crawl and my blood turn to ice as I stared into my mother's face for the first time.


	28. 28: Gone

I was frozen. She was here, standing right in front of me. I knew what she had done to get herself locked up in Azkaban, but a part of me couldn't help but just stare at her. She looked like she was doing the exact same.

"You'll have to smash this if you want to attack any of us," Harry said firmly from behind me. I don't think your boss will be too pleased if you come back without it, will he?"

I could feel Neville's hand still clamped on my shoulder. Margaret Tully tore her eyes from my face to Harry. No one else moved. Bellatrix was staring at Harry, the tip of her tongue moistening her thin mouth.

"So," Harry said. "What kind of prophecy are we talking about anyway?"

I could feel Neville's hand shaking. I could hear another's quickened breath somewhere behind my shoulder. I started to think of ways to get out of here, but it was hard with my mother's yellow eyes staring me down.

"What kind of prophecy?" Bellatrix repeated, the grin fading from her face. "You jest, Harry Potter."

"Nope, not jesting," Harry said. I counted Death Eaters on my side from the corners of my eyes, looking for a weak link, a space through which we could escape. "How come Voldemort wants it?"

Several of the Death Eaters let out low hisses. Margaret Tully ripped her eyes from me once more to glare furiously at Harry. I took the opportunity to glance around me.

"You dare speak his name?" Tully whispered.

"Yeah," Harry said. "Yeah, I've got no problem saying Vol—"

"Shut your mouth!" Bellatrix shrieked. "You dare speak his name with your unworthy lips, you dare besmirch it with your half-blood's tongue, you dare—"

"Did you know he's a half-blood too?" Harry asked recklessly. Hermione gave a little moan and Neville started shaking even more. I reached up and gripped his forearm to try and calm him down. "Yeah, his mother was a witch but his dad was a Muggle—or has he been telling you lot he's pureblood?"

_"STUPEF—"_

_"NO!"_

A jet of red light had shot from the end of Bellatrix's wand but Lucius had deflected it. His spell caused hers to hit the shelf a foot to the left of Harry and several glass orbs there shattered. Two figures, pearly white as ghosts, fluid as smoke, unfurled themselves from the fragments of broken glass upon the floor and each began to speak. Their voices vied with each other, so that only fragments of what they were saying could be heard over Lucius and Bellatrix's shouts.

_"…at the Solstice will come a new…" _The figure of an old and bearded man said.

"DO NOT ATTACK! WE NEED THE PROPHECY!"

"He dared—he dares…" Bellatrix shrieked incoherently. "He stands there—filthy half-blood—"

"WAIT UNTIL WE'VE GOT THE PROPHECY!" Lucius bawled.

_"…and none will come after…" _The figure of a young woman said. The two figures had burst from the shattered spheres had melted into thin air. Nothing remained of them or their erstwhile homes but fragments of glass on the floor. They had, however, given me an idea. The problem was going to be conveying it to the others.

I took a step forward, Neville's hand still clamped to my shoulder. I trembled, "You haven't told us what's so special about this prophecy Harry's supposed to be handing over." I said, playing for time. I moved my foot slowly sideways, feeling around for someone else's.

"Do not play this game, Snape," Lucius snarled.

"I'm not playing games," I said in what I hoped was an innocent voice. Half of my mind was on the conversation, the other half on my wandering foot. And then my foot found someone. A sharp intake of breath told me that it was Neville's.

"Dumbledore never told you that the reason you bear that scar was hidden in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries?" Lucius asked Harry, choosing to ignore me.

"I—what?" Harry asked. "What about my scar?"

"Can this be?" Lucius asked, sounding maliciously delighted; some of the Death Eaters were laughing again. Tully kept her mouth shut, but there was an amused smirk on my mother's face.

Under the sound of their laughter I whispered to Neville. "Smash shelves—"

"Dumbledore never told you," Lucius repeated. "Well this explains why you didn't come earlier, Potter, the Dark Lord wondered why—"

"—when I say go—"

"—you didn't come running when he showed you the place where it was hidden in your dreams. He thought natural curiosity would make you want to hear the exact wording…"

"Did he?" Harry asked. Behind me I heard Neville pass on the message and I sought to talk once more.

"So Voldemort—yes I'll say the name if I want to—wanted Harry to come and get it, did he?" I asked, raising my voice a little louder than necessary for normal conversation. The Death Eaters didn't notice.

"Snape, hold your tongue if you want to keep it." Lucius growled at me. I raised my eyebrows and my hands in a gesture of surrender.

"The thing is I don't think you would do that, Mr. Malfoy." I was already walking on thin ice. My mother's eyes followed my every move. "I've got the feeling that you're all talk and no action." Out of the corner of my eye I saw Hermione whisper to Harry at light speed.

"Tully, control your child if you want her to remain sound." Lucius barked. Tully and I met eyes for a brief second and I bit down on my tongue to keep from snapping back at Lucius. Tully's yellow eyes told me that she would put me in my place if she had to.

Lucius, thinking his small fight with me was won, opened his mouth to continue talking to Harry. I gave one glance to the others and shouted over him. "NOW!"

Six different voices behind me bellowed _"REDUCTO!" _Six curses flew in different directions and the shelves opposite us exploded as they hit. The towering structure swayed as a hundred glass spheres burst apart, pearly white figures unfurled into the air and floated there, their voices echoing from who knew what long-dead past amid the torrent of crashing glass and splintered wood now raining down upon the floor.

"RUN!" Harry yelled, and as the shelves swayed precariously and more glass spheres began to pour from above, I felt Neville seize a handful of my shirt and dragged me backwards. I threw one arm over my head as chunks of shelf and shards of glass thundered down upon us. A Death Eater lunged forward through the cloud of dust and I elbowed him hard in the masked face. They were all yelling, there were cries of pain, thunderous crashes as the shelves collapsed upon themselves, weirdly echoing fragments of the Seers unleashed from their spheres—

Ron, Ginny, and Luna were leading the way with Harry and Hermione right behind them. Neville and I were dead last. We were at the end of row ninety-seven; I saw those farther ahead turn right and I sprinted even faster, Neville and I finally even with each other. I could hear footsteps behind us.

"C'mon Neville!" I shouted to him as the footsteps got louder. "We can make it!" I looked back ahead and realized with a jolt that I couldn't see them anymore. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a door and whipped around to run in that direction Neville kept up. We both crashed into through the threshold and I turned back to the door to see three masked Death Eaters following us and closing in—

_"Colloportus!" _I gasped and the door sealed itself with an odd squelching noise.

"Where—where are the others?" Neville asked, panting heavily. I shrugged; hadn't they been right in front of us? Had they taken a wrong turn or something?

"They must've have gone the wrong way!" I said, struggling to slow my heart rate.

"Listen!" Neville whispered suddenly.

Footsteps and shouts echoed from behind the door we had just sealed. I put my ear close to the door to listen and heard Lucius Malfoy roar: "Leave Nott, _leave him, I say, _the Dark Lord will not care for Nott's injuries as much as losing that prophecy—Jugson, come back here, we need to organize! We'll spilt into pairs and search, and don't forget, be gentle with Potter until we've got the prophecy, you can kill the others if necessary—Bellatrix, Rodolphus, you take the left, Crabbe, Rabastan, go right—Jugson, Mulciber, the door straight ahead—Macnair and Avery, through here—Dolohov and Castamere, go over there—Tully and Rookwood, come with me!"

"What do we do?" Neville asked, trembling from head to foot.

"Well, we don't wait here for them to find us for a start," I said. "Let's get away from this door…"

We ran, as quietly as we could, past a shimmering bell jar with a tiny egg inside was hatching and unhatching. We were just about to enter another door when the doorknob started to twist. Neville grabbed me again and we hid under a desk. Two Death Eaters walked by, their shoes just inches away from us.

"They might've run straight into the hall," A rough voice said. It vaguely reminded me of gravel scratching against each other.

"Check under the desk," Another voice ordered. I saw the knees of the Death Eater bend. Poking my wand out from under the desk I shouted, _"Stupefy!"_

A jet of red light hit the nearest Death Eater; he fell backward into a grandfather clock and knocked it over. The second Death Eater, however, had leapt aside to avoid my spell and now pointed his wand at Neville, who had crawled out from under the desk to get a better aim.

_"Avada—"_

I launched myself across the floor and grabbed the Death Eater around the knees, causing him to topple and his arm to go awry. I scrambled to my knees and Neville and I stood together side by side as the now unmasked Death Eater faced us.

I recognized the thin mouse brown hair and the stormy gray eyes. This was Robert Castamere, Lucy from St. Mungo's husband. Neville and I both had our wands raised and at the ready.

"Neville, remember D.A practice?" I asked him in a hushed voice. Neville nodded his head jerkily. "I think it's time we test our drills out." Neville jerked his head in agreement. Castamere raised his wand and opened his mouth to curse us. But then Neville and I sprang into action.

It must've looked like some sort of dance if you had been watching. Castamere kept matching our moves and although Neville and I were both dueling our hardest, when we combined like this we were equal to Castamere. He blocked some of our spells with a simple flick of his wand. The only upside we had was that Castamere was not able to even get any of his own spells in.

Castamere's buddy started stirring in the corner where he was Stunned. I figured it was the Death Eater called Dolohov, just by remembering what Lucius had said. Castamere took my brief distraction and disarmed me; my wand sent fifty feet into the air and landing somewhere beyond Castamere.

"Lower your wand boy," Castamere ordered Neville, who now looked petrified to be on his own. Neville looked at me for help; Castamere took the opportunity to disarm Neville as well. Now we were both wandless and cornered by a fully-fledged Death Eater.

Castamere was looking us both up and down. "You're the Aurors' boy, right; Frank and Alice Longbottom?" He asked, narrowing his eyes at Neville. I looked sharply at Neville; he had turned a slight shade of green. But he nodded stiffly. Castamere nodded also, looking deep in thought. "You've got your mother's look," Then he raised his wand and Stunned Neville.

"Hey!" I shouted. Castamere directed his wand at me and shushed me. I glared furiously at him.

"Do you want to wake up Dolohov?" Castamere snarled. He glanced over at his unconscious partner; Dolohov was stirring ever so slightly. He would be awake soon. Castamere turned back to me. "You're with the Weasley family aren't you?"

Where the hell was this going? After slight hesitation I nodded. Castamere walked a little closer, but making sure he kept his distance. "Did you or did you not travel with them to St. Mungo's when Arthur was attacked?"

"How do you know—"

"People have been talking about for weeks after we escaped from Azkaban," Castamere snapped roughly. His voice was getting more urgent. "Now answer my question!"

"Yeah, I went with them to go see Mr. Weasley," I said.

Castamere swallowed and hesitated. "Did you happen to see a woman there? A woman with pale blond hair, big blue eyes, kind of thin…"

_He wanted to know about his wife. _The realization hit me with full force. I got the feeling that Castamere no longer cared about his Death Eater duties, he just wanted to make sure his beloved wife was okay.

"Yeah, Healer Castamere was in charge of the ward when we were there," I told him. The tension in Castamere's face melted away and a small smile cracked his tired-looking face. I smiled briefly. Castamere met my eyes for the first time.

"I'm not going to kill children," He said gruffly. "I'm going to get this idiot out of here; you help your friend to safety." And without another word, Castamere started dragging Dolohov from the room. I watched them go before leaning down to check on Neville.


	29. 29: Family Reunion

Neville woke up shortly after Castamere left with Dolohov. He immediately asked where they were and if I had fought them off myself. I told him the truth. Castamere just wanted to make sure that his wife was sound. Neville nodded and looked calmer.

Neville retrieved our wands and together we started on our way to find the others. We found Harry and Hermione faster than expected. Hermione launched herself on me and hugged me tightly. Harry did the same.

We were walking down a very narrow hallway after that. Harry led the way. Neville was directly behind him and Hermione after him. I brought up the rear, making sure that no one snuck up on us or something. The hallway was only wide enough for us to walk directly behind each other. So I took to walking backwards, my shoulders always grazing Hermione's shoulders.

There was a sudden rumble that caused all of us to fall to the ground. I landed with a loud bump on my tailbone and I shrieked in pain. Suddenly, the floor right beneath my feet opened up like a mouth and before I could even try to stop myself, I was sliding into the darkness.

"Calla!" Hermione screamed. I looked up to see the floor close itself again. I fell what must've been twenty before landing on my tailbone all over again. I screamed this time.

I got to my feet on shaky legs. I rubbed at my tailbone and took a look around at where I was. It was a very wide room with what looked like a window stretching from ceiling to floor on one side. I shuffled towards it and looked out. I was staring at what looked like a dome had been scooped out of the earth. Nothing laid in there except for a stone arch in the dead center. I scratched my head and wondered how on earth all of this was in the Ministry.

"What did he name you?" I flinched as a woman's voice sounded from behind me. I spun around to see my mother standing a little ways away, half-hidden in the shadows. The light from the cavern area dramatized the shadows on her face, giving her a haunted look. Her yellow eyes blazed out at me. I glanced behind her, looking for Lucius and the other Death Eater who were supposed to be with her. Tully read my mind.

"I abandoned Lucius long after we separated. You must've heard us separate." She stopped, drinking in my image with her eyes. I shifted on my feet, not sure of what to say. "What did your father name you?"

"Calla," I said curtly. Tully nodded as if she expected that name. There was another moment of silence.

"What House are you in at Hogwarts?" Tully asked. I answered. A smile broke out on her face. "I wouldn't have expected anything less." Then that smile was gone. "Why do you associate with Potter and his friends? Surely they did not overcome you and force you here."

"I came on my own free will," I answered stiffly. Tully narrowed her eyes, wanting me to continue. I swallowed. "I came because those people with me are literally the only friend I have at Hogwarts."

"Impossible," Tully said softly. Her voice was extremely soft-spoken. But it was starting to get louder. I assumed that's when you knew she was angry. "How would a Slytherin be without friends in her own House?"

"Because everyone in that hates my guts," I said, thinking back to when I first joined Slytherin House. "I was eleven years old and they all acted as if I had committed treason by talking to people in other Houses."

"How did you get caught up with them in the first place?" Tully chose to ignore my confession to how I had been treated for the past four years. "How could Severus let you fraternize with the likes of _them_?"

Anger boiled up in my stomach at the mention of Dad. "I met Ginny when I was getting my supplies for Hogwarts. Without her, I wouldn't have a single friend. As for Dad, he knows what I go through every day because of the other Slytherins."

"He still should make you do better than a group of _Gryffindors_," Tully sneered the word Gryffindor as if it was a disease. I felt fury boil in my stomach at her. In that moment I wanted nothing more but to prove her wrong and defend both my friends and Dad.

"This is coming from the one who got herself locked up in Azkaban when she was pregnant?" I asked with a sneer that I'm sure reminded her of Dad. "I have lived my entire life with Dad and he's always treated me with respect and he did want me to make friends in my own House. But when I tried, I was backstabbed. Now he knows that I actually have friends and he doesn't care what House they're in."

As I said it, I knew it was true. I had always thought that Dad had treated me the way he did because he hadn't loved my mom the way he had loved another. But I now saw what would've happened if I had done what he said in my first year: I would've become my mother.

Tully glared furiously at me and her voice remained soft. "It's not too late, you know. The Dark Lord is always in need of spies and with your friendship with Potter you could be his most valuable spy."

I stared at her. Was she really suggesting that I turn my back on my friends to join the Death Eaters? There was a sudden boom from behind me and I turned back to the window to see all of my friends standing in front of the arch. A swarm of Death Eaters dragged a person each and surrounded Harry. He and Lucius were talking it looked like.

"I know you feel like you owe them something but you don't," Tully said softly in my ear. She was standing right beside me. "They're all blood traitors and half-bloods and Mudbloods. If you join with the Dark Lord, you will be with your own people. Your father would be proud, I'm sure of it. Even if he isn't, I'd be proud of you, Calla."

I thought back to my feelings back when I was elven. I had wanted nothing more than to make Dad proud. I had thought I had turned my back on him when I made friends with Ginny. But now, standing beside my mother and watching my friends get hurt, I realized he was proud of me anyway. I thought to when I was alone in the Chamber of Secrets with the memory of Tom Riddle. He had told me that we would meet again and that I would someday join the Death Eaters, just as my parent shad done before me. I thought to recently enough, in Umbridge's office, craving the words _I will be loyal _over and over again into my hand. I tightened that hand and thought hard on loyalty.

There was loyalty to your family, loyalty to your friends, and loyalty to your profession. But what do you do when your friends hate your parents and your parents wanted you to join a profession that you hated? I tightened my left hand even more.

Memories flashed before my eyes. I saw Ginny and I running through the school during Christmas break; running from a werewolf with Harry and Hermione; dragging an unconscious Ron back to the castle; sitting with Luna when no one else would; Neville and I sparring and then dueling with a Death Eater.

Finally, I saw the Astronomy Tower and a flash of ginger hair and I knew that the choice of what to be loyal to was simple.

I turned to Tully and smiled at her. "Thank you, Mom, for making this decision so much easier." Tully smiled widely and I felt a faint stab of pity before pulling my wand out of my pocket. _"Stupefy!"_


	30. 30: Beyond the Veil

I charged down endless and winding hallways. What if I got in too late? I bolted through a door and found myself facing the bottom of the cavern. I climbed up the steps and crashed through the middle of the Death Eaters.

"Welcome back, Miss Snape," Lucius sneered. Several of the Death Eaters laughed. I looked around; my friends had been taken by them and were now struggling against their captures. Harry stood alone right in front of the arch.

"Give us the prophecy Potter or watch as your little friends dies," Lucius said in a deadly voice. He nodded to the only Death Eater without a child to restrain. I didn't have any time to react before she had pointed her wand at me and screamed, _"Crucio!"_

I screamed as loud as I could and dropped down to the floor. It was as if liquid fire was running through my veins. I could barely make out the others screaming out my name. Nothing else mattered but the pain that now felt like a thousand knives were stabbing me all over my body over and over again. Then, as suddenly as the pain appeared, it stopped. I looked up as it ebbed away, and I saw my mother and Bellatrix standing side by side. Tully had an indifferent look on her face.

Then, high above us, two more doors burst open and five more people sprinted into the room: Sirius, Lupin, Moody, Tonks, and Kingsley.

Lucius turned and raised his wand, but Tonks had already sent a Stunning Spell right at him. I didn't wait to see whether it made contact, I just rolled out of the way. The Death Eaters were completely distracted by the appearance of the members of the Order, who were now raining spells down upon them as they jumped down from step to step toward the sunken floor. Through the darting bodies and flashing of lights, I could barely start to crawl away. I flinched as someone dove right next to me. It was Harry.

"Are you okay?" He yelled as another spell soared inches over our heads.

"Yes," I said. The stone floor between us exploded as a spell hit it, leaving a crater right where my hand had been seconds before. Both of us scrambled away from the spot.

"Harry," I shouted over the noise. "Where's the prophecy?" Harry looked down at his hands in alarm, just realizing that he no longer had it. We quickly spotted it rolling down the hill to the sunken floor. We also saw Lucius Malfoy running after it. But when he dived to retrieve it, the glass orb shattered and a misty person who looked very familiar was lifted from the shards.

"Harry! Calla!" Sirius's voice made us both turn. Sirius leaned down and pulled us both to our feet, despite my cry of pain. Sirius forced me into Harry's arms. "Harry, get her out of here! Get out now!" Then he ran off and a jet of green light narrowly missed his head.

Harry let go of me and I was able to stand on my own. We saw Sirius duck Bellatrix's jet of red light. He was laughing at her. "Come on, you can do better than that!" He yelled, his voice echoing around the cavernous room.

The second jet of light hit him squarely on the chest.

The laughter had not quite died from his face, but his eyes widened in shock.

Harry started running towards Sirius but Lupin grabbed him from behind and held him. I ran to get closer.

It seemed to take Sirius an age to fall. His body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backward through the ragged veil hanging from the arch…

And I saw the look of mingled fear and surprise on his wasted, once-handsome face as he fell through the ancient doorway and disappeared behind the veil, which fluttered for a moment as though in a high wind and fell back into place.

I heard Bellatrix's triumphant scream, but knew it meant nothing. Sirius had only just fallen through the archway; he would reappear from the other side any second…

But Sirius did not reappear.

"SIRIUS!" Harry screamed. "SIRIUS!"

I fell to the floor, my breathing coming in searing gasps. Lupin was still holding Harry still, but I could still hear Harry's anguished screams. Sirius Black was gone…

As if to confirm it, as Bellatrix Lestrange bolted away, chanting in a terrible singsong voice, _"I killed Sirius Black!"_

* * *

Lord Voldemort had returned. The Ministry finally admitted that after seeing him those few nights ago. Bellatrix and Tully had gotten away, along with Castamere and quite a few other Death Eaters. Lucius Malfoy, on the other hand, had been sent to Azkaban.

I spent most of my time in the hospital wing now. My tailbone had been badly bruised and my knee started acting up again after being tortured. My body ached twenty-four-seven and somehow, I couldn't bring myself to care.

Professor Dumbledore returned to Hogwarts and made sure all of the teens at the Ministry made it home to Hogwarts safely. As we walked back into the school, I saw our flock of thestrals soar back into the forest. I could see thestrals now…

Umbridge had been sacked after she managed to return to the castle. She had huffed and quickly packed her office and left without bothering to say goodbye. I stroked the scars on my left hand and sighed.

I wasn't alone in the hospital wing. Everyone who had gone to the Ministry had to stay in there for a long time. I was stationed between Neville and Ginny. They both continued to stay with me when everyone else was deemed healthy enough to leave.

When I left the hospital wing for the first time, I found myself going straight down to the dungeons to where Dad's office was. He was sitting at his desk when I found him.

"I've been expecting you Calla," Dad said. He motioned for me to sit and I did mutely. He reached behind his desk and pulled out the tin box with the butter cookies in it.

I grabbed four from the box and took a bite out of one. Dad started to nibble on one as well. We sat there in silence for a moment before Dad started to speak.

"You witnessed the death of Sirius Black?" Dad asked. I nodded, not really feeling like talking. Dad nodded briefly before continuing. "And you met your mother?"

"She's not my mother," I said in a rough voice. Dad looked at me sharply. I looked at him dead in the eyes. "No proper mother would shoot a curse at her daughter." I had discovered that it had been Tully who had blasted that curse at me and Harry. Dad nodded.

"Why did you join the Death Eaters?" I asked. Dad looked at me and leaned back in his chair.

"I was young and foolish. At the time, I believed that the Dark Lord was right. But sometime before the war was over, I realized just what we were doing."

It wasn't the answer I had wanted, but it was close enough. I took another bite out of my cookie. Dad looked like he wanted to say something but didn't know how to.

"She talked about you, Tully, I mean." I said. "She was criticizing the way you raised me and why you would let me become friends with Gryffindors."

Dad smirked and let out a short laugh. "I figured she would if you both got to meet. But understand this Calla, if I didn't want you to be with those Gryffindors, you wouldn't be with them. I would find ways to make sure that you didn't feel the need to talk to them again. But I have seen how much happier you've been since you have been friends with them, and that is why I allow it."

Dad leaned forward suddenly. "I know that you and I have never gotten along and have never really been on the same page, but I am on your side. No matter what you do or _who_ you choose to spend time with, I will _always _be on your side. I always have been and I always will be."

I blinked and stood up. Dad stood up as well, not sure what I was doing. Without thinking, I walked up to him behind his desk and hugged him tightly. This time, there was no hesitation before he hugged me back.

* * *

I got on board the school train and got into a compartment with Ginny. Luna was in here as well, but she was reading her magazine upside down and wasn't listening to a word we said. Neville had to leave to go talk to someone else. That's when I brought up what had been haunting me for the past few weeks.

"Ginny, remember back in our first year when Harry and I went down into the Chamber of Secrets to save you?" I asked.

Ginny tensed up but nodded anyway. I continued. "While Harry was off fighting the basilisk, I was alone with Riddle. He told me that…he told that I was going to join the Death Eaters and that I would meet him again." Ginny stared at me with scared and wide eyes. Luna's eyes had stopped moving across the page of the magazine. "He also said that he told you stuff about me that I didn't know yet. Do you remember what he said?"

Ginny hesitated before speaking. "He told me that you would betray them. When I asked who 'them' was, he just laughed and said that it would be the group who calls themselves an army."

"Do you think that means Dumbledore's Army?" I asked, my pulse heightening.

"I hope not." Ginny said. "He said you would betray them, but at the same time, you would save them."

I leaned back and shook my head. I had no clue what that meant, but now was not the moment to discuss it because Neville had returned with an armful of candy that he wanted to share with us all.

I bit the head of a chocolate frog, thinking hard. Another year was over, and with it I had met my other parent, been saved by a Death Eater, and had been tortured in more than one way. I stared out of the window, watching the countryside roll by. How could I end up betraying my friends? I chose not to think about it. So with a forced smile and laugh, I joined Neville and Ginny and Luna in the jokes and fun as we made our way back to our families.

* * *

**A/N: Oh my goodness gracious I am finished with the fourth book! Now there are only two left. Agh!**

**As I usually do at the end of my stories, I would like to thank everyone who read, favorited, alerted(?) this story! This had to be one of my favorites out of the series so far, and I'm really happy that everyone else seemed to enjoy it as well. Yay! :D**

**I have already written the first three chapters for "The Professor's Daughter: Half-Blood Prince" and the story is up! So, if you want to, go and read it and review! I love reviews...**

**I would also like to point out that I have the soundtrack for the first half of Calla's adventures written on my profile, so if you're interested go and listen to it.**

**Once again, thank you so much for reading this story. It's been amazing to write and I LOVE getting reviews (heck, I get extremely excited when someone alerts a story). I'll talk to y'all later, bye! :D**

**-Katie**


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